Sadie Can't Ever Know
by JohnnyUtah857
Summary: There's much about the world that even Sadie Kane doesn't know. Like who is the father of her friend's daughter, or why Setne was abducted in Chicago, and then how this dead girl Simone was the reincarnation of Walt's great-great grandma. To think Sadie's wedding to Anubis is coming up just as these things seem to be coming to a head.
1. Roselle

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Kane Chronicles.**

The overhead lights flickered above the hospital corridor in the maternity ward. Sadie hated hospitals. People died here, so he was allowed with no questions asked. He stared through the thick glass window at the rows of newborn babies. Three down and the fourth from the left, just like its mother. He had been so sure once that he loved Sadie, but now he was unsure. However, he was sure of his love for the small thing wrapped in-between that pink blanket.

A hand placed itself on his shoulder. The soft music-like voice of the hand's owner murmured in awe, "Isn't she beautiful?"

His lips couldn't help but smile as he uttered, "There's never been a more perfect child."

She smiled. Her gaze was locked on her babe. "You're going back to Sadie, I know. I'm not going to fight you. Just promise me our daughter will know her father," she bluntly stated.

He nodded. "Of course, she's my daughter. I'm not going to do what my parents did to me." He couldn't, he wouldn't let this child bear the same scars he bore. "But Marisol," he paused as the young girl sniffled, "Sadie can't ever know."

Marisol looked at him. Her fingers wrapped around his. Her kind crystal blue eyes met his as she softly replied, "I know. Sadie's your future; you have no other path to choose. Just let me be delusional tonight, let me dream of a perfect life between just us and her, and maybe," another sniffle," a few other children."

He pulled her close to him, allowing her auburn curls to be pressed against his chest. "Roselle Lucia," he lovingly let the name roll off his tongue. Marisol had chosen perfect. For that moment he let himself be lost in her dream. Her father walking her down the aisle in a plush white dress, him kissing her in front of the sunset on their wedding anniversary, them dropping Roselle off at school on her first day, and them playing with their precious children in the their backyard in the Louisiana summer. Perfect, tears threatened to flood his eyes, but he held them back. Sadie, he was Sadie's.

He loved Sadie, right?


	2. The Engagement

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Kane Chronicles.**

**Author's Note: Okay, I have a few things to say before the second chapter. If you have any comments, both positive and negative, please review; I would love some feedback. Also before anyone ends up mislead, for any reason, this isn't going to be your typical Anubis and Sadie story, so don't hate me. I giving you fair warning. For the record I like the Sanubis ship the most, but I can't for good conscience write something where they end up happy together. Don't ask me why because I just don't know. Please enjoy.**

A smile danced upon his cinnamon lips as he watched the blonde that was his girlfriend sitting opposite him in a booth at her favorite restaurant. For seven years he had known her. With a wistful second he remembered how he had first encountered her _ba_ at Osiris's birthday celebration. His fingers brushed over the velvet box that for the moment was hidden in his jean pocket. It was time. The dishes were bare, with only the unwanted scraps left behind.

"Sadie," he softly said.

She didn't hear him. As usual words were streaming from her lips. "…and, yeah, she actually got the role over me. I mean the girl had no actual talent. So, I asked Lacy about it and through some friends of her she was able to discover that the girl had been—"

"Sadie!" he exclaimed.

His girlfriend jumped in surprise and several irritable glances were thrown in their direction by the other clientele of the popular restaurant.

Sadie stared at him, questionably. She carefully brushed a lock of hair behind her slender ear. The streaks in her hair had recently been dyed a blue that coordinated quite well with her eyes. She chuckled, raising one of her eyebrows, "Yeah, Death Boy?"

He cleared his throat and straightened his back. "I want to ask you a question."

Sadie's eyes franticly flickered around; suddenly weary of her surroundings, before shrugging her shoulders. "Okay? Shoot."

He got up from the seat and dug the box out of his pocket as he knelt. Just as he made to open his mouth Sadie's response came in the form of a shriek. "Yesss! Oh yes, yes, yes! Oh, Anubis." She grabbed the front of his plain cotton shirt and pulled him to her, closing the distance between their lips. For that moment everything was the way he had hoped for it to be. Behind him several tables had started clapping and someone loudly whistled two or three times.

Of course all good things end and before they retook their seats their waiter handed him the bill. He nearly doubled over when he read the neat print that listed the sum that was owed. "Inflation," he cursed under his breath in disgust.

Sadie's dialogue had already begun once more. "I can't wait to tell Lacy, and Liz and Em, and, of course, Marisol. After I tell Carter and Zia first, you know what a sensitive dweeb my brother is…"

Marisol, Anubis paused. He should tell her before Sadie could.

"Oh, Anubis, would you give me the ring?" Sadie demanded.

"What?" he had zoned out for a moment, imagining Marisol's reaction once he broke it to her.

"The ring?" Sadie repeated. Sadie loathed repeating herself.

"Oh," he mumbled, quickly handing the box over to her.

She smiled as she placed the ring on her finger, sampling the glimmer as the black gems met with the light of a dull lamp behind her. "It's perfect," she contentedly sighed.

He nodded. "So, what's your plan for the day, dear?"

Sadie casually shrugged. "The usual, Carter asked me to lead a few of the classes. The nome is near to bursting with trainees currently, after all, so everyone's desperately needed. And you?"

It was rare for her to ask about him. "What are my dad's orders for you today?"

He forced a smile. "The usual," he coolly stated. It was a lie. He had asked for the day off and he had been given it, as well as Julius's blessing. There was one other thing he was planning to do today, and that was visit a friend's flat in the city. He sighed; he wouldn't mention that to Sadie, though, for she'd ask who and Anubis knew he mustn't ever have to answer that question lest… in his thoughts he shuddered.

Sadie smiled happily at him. The sparkle in her eyes rivaled that of the gems on the ring. "Okay, but come to Brooklyn House tonight so we can announce our engagement to Carter at dinner."

He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek before her whispering playfully in her ear, "I promise." Without another word he left the table and went off to pay the bill.


	3. Marisol

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Kane Chronicles.**

**Author's Note: As I begin typing this I can hear the fireworks coming from one of the lakes near me. The official tourist season has begun, all I can say I can say goodbye to being sat right away anywhere in town. This is probably the last chapter I'll be posting until June 7****th****, not 6****th**** because I have plans to celebrate the end of the school year on the 6****th**** with a few friends. Until then I have big projects due in English, Science, and one of my longer ortho appointments to look forward to, as well as finals week. So… I'm going to have no life for a while. Please enjoy, and you're welcome to review.**

Her door was a very nice door. It was thick and sturdy, really the prime example of what a door should be. "C'mon," he scoffed; urging himself to raise his arm and just knock already, but his strength had left him. It was one thing to know that it was right for him to be the one to tell her, but another to actually find the courage to do so.

He took a deep breath, preparing himself for this unwanted task, when the door flew open. Anubis took a surprised step back as he stared at the girl who stood in the doorway. Since he had known her, her appearance had changed very little. Her auburn curls had been dyed a darker brunette and straightened four years ago when she had gone through a rough phase in life, and her fashion sense had seen quite the revolution as she started her career as the heir to her father's company, but those were the only big changes. Freckles still speckled her cheeks and nose, and she still was taller than any other girl he knew. And there was no denying she was pretty, really pretty.

"Hey, Marisol," Anubis greeted.

Her lip-stick bare lips curled up into that lazy smile that she was prone to wearing. Marisol almost always wore a smile, and it went well with her easy temperament. "Good timing, babe. I just finished frosting a cake. Would you like a piece?"

He weakly nodded.

Marisol gracefully withdrew from the doorframe and allowed his entry into the flat. With a gentle push from Marisol the door clicked shut. "You _know_ where the table is, you're here often enough," her melodic voice teased.

He crossed through the living room to where the table sat, placed in a perfect spot of the window. It was when he remembered what her quality of life was like that he understood why she dreaded pity. She knew she didn't deserve it. Anubis sat, admiring the view from his seat was situated.

Marisol disappeared into the kitchen; minutes later she emerged carrying two plates heaped with generous portions of chocolate cake. She placed one in front of him and the other where she planned to sit. Her dainty hand flew to her mouth as she shook her head, rolling her eyes and chuckling. "Silly, silly me, I forgot the forks again. Wait here, you. I'll be back in a minute."

He stifled a humored grin. Marisol was the kind of person it was nearly impossible to hate or even be annoyed with. With the usual happy skip to her step she returned carrying the silver utensils.

"Where's Roselle?" he inquired, as Marisol delicately placed a fork beside his plate. The flat was absent of the noise the darling girl usually made as she played with her dolls and other toys.

"She's with my father."

Anubis nodded, picking up the fork and slicing a bite off the titanic portion. "That's nice."

"It's some fundraiser at the children's museum. Makes him look good, you know," Marisol added.

He swallowed, not answering.

"Sorry," Marisol sincerely apologized. "Who am I to complain? My parents have always been there for me, while yours…" she paused, not knowing how to ease the awkwardness of the topic, "…yeah. My father loves her, it just also makes him look good, that's all I meant."

"Marisol, don't. It's all right, my parents, it's just their awful lousy. That's never going to be different. You're lucky to have your kind of parents."

She found his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"So…" Marisol started, withdrawing her hand and her gaze from his, "did Sadie like the ring?" There was no anger or resentment or even spite in that voice, yet guilt stung him all the same.

"Marisol," he murmured, his voice catching. "I-I."

"I saw the ring last night, when you were sleeping. My foot found the box when I was on my way to the kitchen for a midnight snack," she recounted.

His eyes watched her, his mouth frowning and his head shaking. "Hate me, yell, or even scream, Marisol. You have every freaking right to."

She met his eyes and somberly smiled. "If I couldn't, didn't understand you, then I'd probably buy a shotgun and shoot you," she noticed how after her statement he froze. "That was a joke," she commented.

"It wasn't funny," he muttered. Though, he did have to admit Marisol wasn't a girl to fire a shotgun. Now Sadie, yep, he saw that easily. Marisol, never, not even if the world was coming to an end.

"Nah, it really wasn't, was it?" She left the question at its root and started where she had left off. "I know you, and understand how you think. Your parents abandoned you to an aunt and uncle and ever since part of you has carried that anguish and pain that longs for the approval and love of your parents. It's that part that struggles against the part that's the man who can't see his own child suffer the same fate. Your need for approval is what forces you to want to please your family, as you do. And it would please your family to see you marry Sadie, and that's why you can't break it off with her."

He hated the truth in her words, but he loved her honesty. She never turned away from the way things actually were and saw them as they were. Marisol was strong, not like Sadie's strong, though. Strong in the sense she wasn't afraid of what the truth was. Sometimes he even caught himself thinking that she knew everything; that she knew he wasn't human, but actually an ancient god, but then he always stopped and remarked to himself what a fool he was.

His fingers locked around her narrow wrist and pulled it to his lips. "It's more complicated than that, Marisol," he mournfully noted. She was human, only a human, not even a magician of the House of Life.

She laughed; it was a broken laugh that led to fragile sobs. He stood and strolled over to where she sat. Intimately he brushed away the hot tears that ran down her lovely freckled cheeks.

"It's only as complicated as you make it, my love," she murmured. He paused, she was always careful never to say that, at least not out loud in front of him. Marisol had realized her words but it made no difference to anything now. He was never hers. Nonetheless she pulled his face down to hers and tenderly let their lips meet, only breaking apart, so Marisol could utter three words.

Her blue eyes confirmed their sincerity and his only response was to answer, "I love you, too." He let go of the boundaries for that moment and let himself be hers, and hers alone.

Half an hour later the sharp cry of the Marisol's home phone found the pair in a compromised state on the couch. "Don't answer it," he pleaded in vain.

Marisol chuckled, "You know I can't." She held a finger to his lips. "Shhh… you're not supposed to be here, remember?" He let her go.

From the study he heard her talking, the words were muffled by the oak door that closed off the room, and thus he was only able to hear broken fragments of the conversation from Marisol's side. He stared up at the ceiling as he waited for his lover to return to his embrace.

It was a good hour before she returned. "That was Sadie," Marisol stated, distancing herself from him. She grabbed his shirt that had been carelessly strewn on the floor and threw it at him. "She never could keep that mouth shut for long, you know. Her head would probably explode if she managed to not speak for ten minutes."

He laughed, "Probably." Anubis sighed before he softly uttered, "Marisol?"

Her eyes met his, but she only sighed dismally. "There are basically two choices for you to pick from. One, you choose only her or only me. Two, we carry on as we are."

He slipped his jeans back on and zipped up the fly before pulling his shirt on over his head. Before he left he kissed her lips and gently asked, "How is it that you never state that as an ultimatum?"

Marisol's fingers gracefully traced his lips and her blue eyes seemed to stare into his very soul. "I don't want to risk losing you."

Anubis wrapped his arms around her and just held her close, reveling in the comfort her presence gave him. "I shouldn't be here," he protested.

Marisol nodded. "I'm among Sadie's best friends; we're supposed to know that, but…"

"But…"

"You'll be back later tonight, right?" she asked.

"Do you want me to?" he ventured. Marisol never said yes, but she also never said no, either.

A wistful smile lit up her face. "Roselle likes it when you tuck her in for the night," Marisol commented.

"Then I'll be here," he promised.

When the door closed behind him Marisol cast a glance over at the pieces of cake that long since been forgotten and stifled a sob.


	4. A Chat With Carter

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Kane Chronicles.**

**Author's Note: Yes, I know I said it was unlikely I would post, but I found the time to write during math (jeez, I can't believe the attitude my math teacher has) and on the bus.**

Carter had never approved of his sister being with him. Part of it was because he had always wanted Sadie to end up with Walt. Anubis couldn't blame him for that, Walt was a great guy. Anubis sighed, was. Walt should've been the guy that she ended up with. Walt wouldn't have hooked up with one of Sadie's best friends, not even once.

Zia sat defensively close to her recently-made husband. She seemed to share the same mistrust of him as her husband. The entire nome had already gathered for the evening meal by the time Sadie pulled him into the dining room. Annoyance flamed behind her eyes as she asked what had made him late. He lied and said that Ammit's walk had ran a bit long, but from her tight grip on his hand somehow he didn't think that she had bought the excuse. His tardiness hadn't bought him any points in Carter's book, either, as he could feel Carter's loathing glare upon him as Sadie sat him in the seat next to hers.

The entire nome seemed to foretell their announcement as the chatter, though, still quite loud, was more reserved than usual. There were also several anxious glances thrown their way by many of the older residents of the Twenty-First Nome.

The meal went by tediously slow and though he knew only minutes were passing it felt like hours. The food was good, actually it was quite delicious, but he didn't notice. He couldn't help but feel stifled under the stern gaze of Carter and his wife. When Anubis asked for quiet, the nome was only too happy to comply. As the announcement left his lips it was greeted by excited squeals and shrieks from many of Brooklyn's House's female occupants and a sour frown from Carter.

Carter cast a knowing look towards his wife and at Zia's nod Cater rose and loudly cleared his throat. The noise vanished instantly. "Anubis, could you come with me? I wish to speak with you, privately," Carter added, eyeing his little sister. Sadie slumped back in her chair with an annoyed roll of her eyes. Anubis nodded and stood, following Carter out of the room and upstairs to the magician's study. Opening the study door he motioned Anubis through, closing the door tightly behind himself. Carter uttered several spells that ensured that the privacy of the room would not be breached. Anubis sat in the armchair opposite the one that sat behind the study's desk, which Carter did not take long to claim.

Carter uncomfortably swallowed. "So…" his future brother-in-law began.

"So, you wanted to talk with me," Anubis coolly finished.

Carter rested his elbows on the hard wooden surface of the desk and brashly began, "Yes, before you marry my sister I want to clear something up about a few rumors that I've heard. Anubis nodded for him to continue. "The old myths say you have a wife. Is that true?"

"No," he coldly replied. _Blue eyes, serene as the summer sky_.

"So, just to clarify there's no goddess named Anput who's going to be mad that Sadie took her man, yes?" Carter's eyes studied his face expressionlessly. "Right, Anubis?"

He weakly nodded before softly uttering, "Yes." His mind was beginning to spin. _ The perfumed incense of the temple smog clung to her olive skin, as well as the faint scent of vanilla. The bracelets that decorated her delicate arms and legs jangled as she rushed to greet him._

"So there was no Anput?" Carter asked, one last time to confirm.

"No."

Carter's eyes raised as his face hardened. "Who was she then and how or why is she connected to you?" he inquired, his voice dripping with suspicion, like the dew on the leaves at day's dawn.

Anubis fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair and sorrow softened his long face's features. "I don't want to talk about this, about her," he barked, yet at the end it more resembled a whine.

Carter only leaned closer and persistently repeated his question, "Who was she?" _Who was she? Who was she…_

_Her blue eyes playfully reprimanded his. "You're late," she hissed, with a voice that could shame any songbird. _

_He chuckled. "I'm sorry. He knelt upon the temple's marble floor and held his hands up to her in a pleading gesture. "Forgive me, please Anput. The Hall of Judgment had many souls to weigh this day."_

_She knelt in front of him and wrapped her arms about his shoulders and murmured, "Osiris has 40 other gods to do his bidding, surely he could let you go an hour early."_

_Anubis mournfully shook his head. "Alas, Anput, I'm their overseer, remember?"_

_Anput placed her forehead against his own and sighed. "I remember."_

_He twirled a lock of her hair between her fingers lovingly. "No goddess can compare to your beauty, my love," he murmured, kissing her neck. She sighed contentedly._

"_You shouldn't say such things," she severely chided._

_He laughed and passionately kissed her lips. "I can say such things; I am a god, after all."_

_Anput pushed him away. "And I'm not, remember. I'm at the gods' mercy," she solemnly stated._

_He pulled her face back to his. "Then let me make you my wife."_

_She wistfully smiled. "You know I'm not the one stopping you," she gently replied._

_He nodded. "I know," he whispered in return. _But he hadn't known as he now knew sitting opposite Carter.

"Anubis, I asked you who was she?" Carter harshly repeated.

He frowned. "She was my first love. I'm 5,000 years old; I'm allowed to have loved another girl before, yes?"

"Yes," Carter gruffly allowed, "I suppose so." Carter reflected silently for a moment upon his response. "So what was she like? I mean…"

"I know what you mean," Anubis interjected. He solemnly paused before giving his reply. "She was a priestess in the temple of Ra in the Seventeenth Nome."

"Ra?" Carter raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I know," Anubis commented.

"It's just I never considered that a priestess of Ra to be your taste," Carter explained.

"They're not, it was only her that I was interested by." Only her, until Sadie he hadn't bothered looking at any other girl. He hadn't been happy, truly blissfully happy until that night at the movies when he first met Marisol.

Carter's eyebrows furrowed as he struggled to understand. "If you loved her then, uh, if you don't mind my asking, what happened to her?"

Anubis dismally sighed. "She died."

Carter leaned back in his chair and tried to come up with the proper thing to say. "Look, uh, Anubis I'm—"

"Please, don't. You never knew her. She is only a name to you, practically nothing."

"How, how did she die?"

"The other gods took her from me," Anubis coldly answered.

Carter frowned, "In what way?"

"There was prince who had tried to court her, but Anput only had eyes for me," at this Carter scoffed, "and after his seventh failed attempt he decided if she would not be his, then she would not be mine, and so he murdered her and…"

"And?" Carter urged.

"Our daughter." She had been only two when she died.

A thought seemed to occur to Carter just then and he sputtered, "Wait, you're a death god, couldn't you resurrect her and make her a goddess or something like that?"

There was a long silence before Anubis found it in himself to answer. "That's how they took her from me."

"No…"

"No tomb, no corpses even. Just gone. Her soul never came to the Hall of Judgment and when I looked for her on the banks of the River of the Night among the other lost souls she was not there," Anubis bitterly spat.

Carter tapped his fingers on the top of the his study's wooden desk as he quietly pondered. "What was the prince's name?"

Anubis's eyes narrowed in anger as he snarled, "Khaemwaset."

"Setne," Carter uttered amidst several cursers, both modern and ancient. Carter glanced at Anubis, his eyes still suspicious but thawing. "You may go, that's all I wanted to know."

Anubis nodded and left the study without another word. Sadie was waiting beside the door for him. "What did Carter want?" she inquired frankly.

He sighed, he wasn't quite up to answering Sadie's questions at the moment. "Sadie…"

"If he was trying to convince you…"

"Sadie, I'm going home," he stated, not caring if she heard him over the sound of her own voice or not.

"Where do you think you're going? I'm not done with you, Death Boy. What were you and my brother chatting about? Did he try to give you that talk? Or was he threatening you like if you ever leave me or hurt me he's going to pound your pathetic ar—"

Anubis sighed, before turning around to face his fiancé. "Dear, I'm going home," he said, making sure to clearly enunciate every letter in each word.

"And my questions?" Sadie demanded.

Anubis smiled, before kissing her forehead. "Tell your brother he can tell you everything I told him. If you have any questions I'll answer them tomorrow."

Sadie rolled her eyes and grudgingly nodded, but as he made to leave she stopped him and pulled him to her for tender embrace, contentedly whispering into his ear, "Did I mention that I'm really happy with this, with…_us_."

"Me too, he gently murmured. In truth he wasn't. He wasn't, so why was he going through with this. The glittering hope of a future spent together that gleamed in Sadie's eyes, why didn't, couldn't he imagine that with her? Why did he stay? Then it hit him, he knew. He broke the rules with Anput. Sadie, she could be made a goddess, not like Anput, so she would be tolerated, not like Anput. He went beyond the boundaries with Anput, but Sadie was just safely within those borders. But then, what about Marisol? If Anput had been deemed unworthy, what was Marisol? What danger had he put her in?

Yet all the same, like most nights he found himself at Marisol's door, he tucked Roselle into bed, and ended the night next to Marisol in her bed. Shouldn't he had learned his lesson with Anput?


	5. Dawn

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Kane Chronicles.**

Marisol's eyes drowsily meandered over to the digital alarm clock that sat smugly upon her squat bedside table. 7:05, the clock's face arrogantly jeered. The sun's gloating rays filtered through the closed window blinds as the city below proved that it had already been awake for hours. Pigeons cooed, cars aggressively honked in their haste, and the noise that came from the start of the of the morning rush invaded her ears. She rolled over to find that the other half of the bed was empty.

Tentatively she left the comfort of the covers and slipped a sleek robe over herself, tying it loosely as she walked out of her bedroom. She found him at the dining table just staring out at the city below. The skin under his eyelids was a dusky purple, he had obviously been up for a while and hadn't gotten much sleep during the night. He was quiet and his expression blank when he turned to look towards her.

She sweetly smiled, but he only sighed dismally. His morose thoughts kept him. Hesitantly she strolled over to him, so that she stood just in front of him. His lovely deep chocolate eyes met hers and she understood. "Not even for Roselle?" she softly asked. Her eyes had begun to water.

Anubis shook his head. "Not even for Roselle," he coldly refrained.

"She won't understand."

He swallowed uncomfortably. "I'm marrying Sadie," he firmly responded as though convincing himself.

Marisol nodded. "I know."

He stood and took her face in his hands, one last time, before gently pressing his lips against hers. "I'm sorry, Marisol," Anubis whispered, his voice doused in longing and sorrow. He left without another word.

As the door clicked shut Marisol skulked back to her bedroom and closed the door before lying back down on the bed. The crazed tears and frenzied sobs escaped without protest. She lacked the strength to stop herself from being lost to the pain that consumed her so. She loved him, and he loved her. She was the mother of his child; he was supposed to be hers. No, she bleakly remembered. He was supposed to be Sadie's and she…she was his inconvenient mistake. An unfortunate mistake that now it seemed he had decided to leave to the concluded past.


	6. Where were you?

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Kane Chronicles.**

**Author's Note: Sorry for not updating lately, I had finals. The grades so far are good, still waiting on two exam results, though. Happy summer vacation to all who are out now, and sorry to all those who suffer from added days to the school calendar because of the extra snow days.**

By the time Anubis finally had the nerve to show his handsome face, Sadie had already dialed more than half the numbers in her address book, which wasn't skinny either, be assured. It did have to fit the numbers of all her friends, the past occupants of Brooklyn House who moved onto college elsewhere, as well as the emergency numbers of the leaders of all the other nomes. She was mid-dial, about to call Marisol, when she heard the door open and him enter. Her thumb pressed the end button as she hastily hung up. "Where were you?" Sadie fiercely demanded.

"What?" Anubis inquired in that charming manner of his. Mocking innocence, figures he would attempt that.

"I asked where were you," she angrily snarled.

"At home, like I told you last night," he easily answered. Lying dog.

"No, no you weren't." The coolness he always maintained faltered for just a moment before returning back to its former mysterious façade. "I asked for my dad to put you on the phone but he said you hadn't returned to your rooms, or to the Land of the Dead, for that matter."

Anubis casually smiled and coyly stepped closer to her. "So," his lips teased her, "I had some business to take care of."

"Uh-huh. Why don't you tell me where you actually were?" Though, her blue eyes held little love at the moment for him, Anubis nonetheless ran a hand lovingly through her blue streaked hair. He lowered his head and kissed her lips with a passion he hadn't had for her in at least a year. Sadie felt her anger melt has she returned the kiss, wrapping her arms snugly around his neck as she felt herself pulled closer to him. However, her anger wasn't going to be that promptly evaded and she forcefully pushed him away from her. "Oh, no you don't. You're not going to distract me that easily," Sadie scowled.

Anubis carefully divided a lock of her hair before wrapping it through his fingers. "Did I mention how beautiful you are when you're arguing?" he suavely asked.

Butterflies fluttered in Sadie's stomach as her eyes met his, every time she saw him was like the first. She lost any form of verbal communication and logic when his brown eyes focused on her, only her. So perfect, yet…so infuriating.

If he wasn't going to bend that way she would simply have to change her strategy. Her eyelids dropped as she daintily batted her eyelashes while her lips frowned in a pout. "What's so bad that you won't tell me?" she whined.

Anubis shook his head and softly chuckled. "Oh, Sadie, don't worry about it. It doesn't matter anymore. All that matters is you," he softly pecked her lips before concluding, "and me."

A rosy blush painted her cheeks as she stupidly smiled, the words 'you and me' repeating themselves over and over in her head like a harmonic orchestra. She sighed. "I guess I'll let it go," Sadie grudgingly conceded.

He kissed her forehead, as if she was a small child. "I thank you for that, Sadie."

That pout turned back into her all too familiar smirk. "But," she severely warned, a finger pointed at his chest, "only this one time, understood?"

He eagerly nodded. "Of course, dear." She smiled, happy with his response. He let his forehead rest against hers as he murmured, "So how does breakfast sound? We could discuss what I had Carter tell you."

Sadie sighed, remorsefully stepping back. "Can't," she casually shrugged. "I'm already previously engaged with another for breakfast this fine morning."

Anubis's eyes widened as he stared at her in disbelief. "Who?" he sputtered in blatant outrage.

Sadie devilishly smiled, "What's it to you, Mr. I'm-too-hot-for-anyone-to-know-my-whereabouts."

He snorted before grabbing her face, firmly holding it in-between his hands. "Everything," he whispered in return, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"I made plans with Lacy when I called her asking if she possibly knew where you were," Sadie smartly replied.

"Figures," he commented, annoyance heavy in his tone.

"We'll talk later. Be there when I call, got it, Death Boy." He solemnly nodded.

As Sadie entered the restaurant where Lacy and she had agreed to meet, the phone in her pocket began to urgently vibrate. By instinct she instantly reached for it and checked the number. Pressing the talk button, she said, "Hey, Lace. Something the matter?" It sounded like someone was sobbing in the background. It was probably one of those soap operas Lace was so particularly fond off.

"Yeah, I think I'm going to have to cancel on breakfast, Sade," Lacy replied. There were definitely sobs on the other side of the line, but they didn't sound like they were from a TV show.

"Where are you?"

"Marisol's," Lacy softly returned.

"Is that Marisol crying?" Sadie asked, rather confused. Marisol had been her usual happy self last night when she had called her.

"Yeah," Lace confirmed. "She's in…well she's not doing well." Sadie nodded to herself, her brows deeply furrowed in puzzlement.

"I'll be there in ten, Lace," Sadie informed her kind friend as she snapped her cell phone shut. She cast a dismal look at the hostess who had been waiting for her. "Sorry, something's come up. I'm afraid I'll be heading," she crisply stated to the restaurant employee. The hostess irritably sighed and turned her attention to the next person in line.


	7. Did she just?

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Kane Chronicles.**

**Author's Note: Please review, I honestly would like to know what people think of this story. **

It was Lace who opened Marisol's door to let her in. "You didn't have to come, Sadie. I mean I'm glad that you came but…"

"But?" Sadie asked as she readily showed herself into Marisol's flat.

"I don't think Marisol wants to see you. I mean she barely wants me here," Lacy carefully explained, doing her best to tread around Sadie's temper.

"What? Why wouldn't she want me here? We've been friends since BAG. I was there for her when she was pregnant," Sadie argued. There wasn't any logical reason why Marisol wouldn't want her here that Sadie could think of.

Lacy didn't have to answer because just then the soft high-pitched voice of Marisol's young daughter warily asked, "Why is Mama crying?" Roselle still wore her Disney Princess pajamas as her favorite doll hung limply from her tiny fist.

"Roselle," Lacy squeaked. "Umm… I rather hoping you knew, darling."

The child frowned. Roselle quietly scanned the flat before asking, "Where's daddy? He usually stays until I wake up."

Sadie's and Lacy's eyes went wide. Sadie hesitantly glanced toward Lacy. "Did she just…?"Sadie pondered aloud.

Lacy nodded.

"But I didn't…"

"Me neither."

"So she's been in contact with the father all these years and never mentioned that fact to us," Sadie bitterly summarized.

"Pretty much," Marisol answered from her bedroom's doorframe. Sadie bit her lip. Marisol's hair was bedraggled and she wore only a loose robe. Her cheeks were red from crying.

"You could've told us," Lacy sweetly commented.

"Yeah, I wouldn't have minded a few words with the pig that knocked you up," Sadie brashly remarked.

Marisol frowned sadly and disappeared back into her rooms, where the sound of muffled sobs soon slipped though the doorway. Lacy exasperatedly glanced at Sadie stating, "Perhaps you could try a little more tact. I just managed to get her to stop her crying half an hour ago."

"Sorry," Sadie shrugged. "I wasn't aware it would set her off again."

Lacy sighed. "I'll go comfort her. Just watch the kid, okay?"

Reluctantly she nodded, "Fine." Lacy promptly nodded and disappeared after Marisol, leaving Sadie alone with Roselle.

Roselle already had spread out on the couch, turning the TV on to Disney Channel. Sadie forced a smile as she sweetly asked, "So what are we watching, Ro?"

"Roselle, it's Roselle," the kid venomously spat.

Sadie paused, a bit taken back by the child's slightly aggressive response. "Um, sorry."

"No you're not."

Sadie plopped down on the couch next to the runt. "Okay, kid. I don't think—"

"Shut up." Roselle even avoided looking at her, like she was the messy room that a parent tells their kid to clean.

Sadie's brow furrowed in frustrated confusion. "Do you not—" she started only to be cut off curtly by the young girl.

"I hate you," Roselle firmly stated.

Sadie gaped. "Well that's rude. Hasn't Marisol taught you any manners?"

The kid had the nerve to smirk.

Speechless, Sadie slumped back into the cushiony comfort of the couch. She couldn't very well curse at or name-call the daughter of one of her best friends. That didn't stop curiosity from burning in the back of her throat as she watch Sofia the First, though. Her eyes flickered back and forth between the TV screen and the little brat. Something about the kid's face had always bothered Sadie, mostly because the girl seemed to look a lot like the kid's father. Roselle had dark, almost black wavy curls, that didn't match the golden auburn locks that her mother possessed. The child's eyes were brown, a lot like Anubis's now that she thought about it, and the opposite of Marisol's blue irises. Not to mention the child had seriously pale skin.

"Stop that," Roselle irritably chided.

"What?"

"You know what?" the girl retorted.

"No, I don't!" Sadie exclaimed. In the back of her mind she groaned and reprimanded herself. She was arguing with a five year old. Roselle was five, right? Or was it six? Ugh… it's not like it mattered, at the end of the day she's would still be a little girl. She was going to get married soon, and someday she was going to have to deal with her own children's tantrums, and instead of learning how to interact with kids now, she was nearly screaming at one. How pathetic.

"Looking at me like that," the child whined.

"Like what?"

"Like…like you did," Roselle babbled.

Sadie rolled her eyes before throwing a glance towards Marisol's room. She could still hear faint sobs leaking through the walls and Lacy's attempts to comfort their friend. It made sense Lacy was the one comforting her, she knew Marisol better. Lacy had introduced them, after all.

"Whatever, kid," Sadie conceded. It wasn't worth her time to fight with an immature rotten brat. That one question still bugged her, though, and so she turned to Roselle and calmly asked, "Why do you hate me?"

Roselle glared at her. "I don't know, just do," the young girl harshly muttered.

Sadie sighed and detached her butt from the comfortable couch cushions. She silently crept towards Marisol's door, curiously glancing inside. Marisol was on the floor, tears still pouring from the corners of her eyes. Sadie vaguely recalled her hatred for the girl Marisol had been. Marisol was Lacy's age but had been in Sadie's grade. She had transferred to BAG in eighth grade… immediately adopted by Drew and her goonies, for some inexplicable reason she had soon became Drew's conniving understudy.

The first day of eighth grade, it was the art room. Sadie was chatting with one of the other girl's in her grade, who just happened to be sitting beside her, when it came to her attention that a group of Drew's goonies were giggling like fiends all the while throwing pointed looks at her throughout the entire hour. Madame Beccaria had decided on painting for their first assignment of the year and so naturally at the end of the hour one of Drew's robot's had befouled her combat boots with leftover paint from her palate. The new girl with auburn curls and blue eyes. A war of insults, pranks, and slights began that day between them. The girl's apologetic performance had Madame Beccaria believing every last word, even Sadie caught herself almost believing it, though, she knew better. Marisol had done it on purpose, and thus the detention for her fist colliding with Marisol's pretty little face had completely worth it. By the end of eighth grade Marisol was in a prime position to knock Drew out of her top spot as most the despicable human being on the planet. That of course was before she truly met Marisol that day when she surprise visited Lacy and found the two splayed out of the floor watching some ancient horror flick.

_The girl laughing at the awful special effects presented by the gory film scene nearly choked on the popcorn she had been guzzling. Their eyes met and Sadie knew the girl was caught in a spot that meant things couldn't carry on as they previously had._

_Lacy started at the sight of Sadie. "Uh, Sade…what are you doing here?" Lacy asked in that obvious high-pitched manner that reveals someone had just walked in on something they were not supposed to have seen._

_Sadie casually shrugged and answered, "Thought we could hang out, you and I." Marisol fidgeted nervously, clearly noting the emphasis placed on that last word. "Better question," Sadie glared at Marisol as she uttered in disgust, "What is she doing here?"_

_Both Lacy and Marisol were speechless. Tentative glances toward the other revealed their struggle to accurately explain the situation. Neither spoke, so impatiently Sadie demanded, "Well? What's it I'm not supposed to know?"_

_Lacy gulped. "Uh…" she faintly murmured, "Marisol, uh, she's my friend."_

_Sadie's eyes went wide as her jaw fell into a deep scowl. "Why?" she exclaimed in puzzlement. "Marisol's the enemy, Drew's minion. She's been a total b***h to both of us. She destroyed our history project last November, or have you forgotten?"_

_Marisol sighed. "You've have a point, but I'm afraid it's not that black and white, hon," the girl calmly stated, wearing a hesitant smile._

_Sadie raised one brow. "Really, do go on?"_

_It was Lacy who answered. "You know that gossip column in the school paper."_

_Sadie nodded._

"_It's a joint project between me…and Marisol," Lacy explained._

_What had already been unimaginable seemed to only grow more complicated. "Okay," Sadie muttered. It still wasn't really okay. "But, uh, why with her? I mean you could've asked me to help," she bitterly remarked._

"_Because we've been best friends since diapers. In seventh grade we came up with the idea for the column and figured that we'd cover more ground if we split up, so we faked a huge fight after I transferred. Lacy joined with the outcasts. She had the braces, and well she's pretty darn nice. I took the popular crowd. I've always liked a challenge and had the cunning to play Drew's game. Even Drew doesn't know we're behind the column," Marisol nonchalantly reflected._

_Sadie's mouth had gradually fallen open during the girl's explanation. She blankly blinked a dozen times rotating her stare from Lacy to Marisol. Eyes resting on Lacy, Sadie angrily whined, "And you didn't think to include me in on this delightful plot?" Lacy sighed in gracious relief, though she shot a fleet glance toward Marisol, a glance that silently shouted their reason._

_Marisol laughed. "We…" she paused, pondering the diction choice that would be least likely to get her killed, "didn't think you could keep a secret." Sadie laughed. Loudly and gleefully as she reflected upon the secret life she would never tell Lacy or any of her other normal mortal friends at school (excluding Liz and Emma, of course). It was funny that these two went to such lengths to keep the miniscule issue of a gossip column secret when she kept the ginormous secret of the House of Life and Egypt's gods hush._

_Grabbing the bowl of popcorn from Marisol, she contentedly sat beside the girl, who hours earlier had been her enemy. Now she was an equal, well only on school terms. After all, Sadie had been the eye of a god while Marisol still was only a human. "So…all of it was an act?" A mischievous glimmer shone in that girl's eyes as she curtly nodded. "Impressive," Sadie murmured._

"_Now that you know our secret, I'll be nicer next year. I actually wouldn't mind it if we became friends. You have a few admirable traits, I'll grant you that," Marisol remarked._

_Sadie snorted. "Likewise. But don't be nicer, cause I'm definitely not going to be. Let's make it quite the performance, my dear. We can expose all of Drew's dirty secrets while we're at it."_

_Marisol's easy smile lit up her face. "Sounds like fun." _However, she was nicer next year. She fell out of Drew's favor.

Returning to the present Sadie solemnly watched her friend sob. She sighed before loudly declaiming, grabbing the attention of the two on the floor, "I'm going. Anubis and I have something that needs discussing. I'll call you both later."

Marisol momentarily seemed to pull herself together, wiping the tears away with the sleeve of her robe. She licked her chapped lips and made to speak, but words came with difficulty. "It was kind of you to come," her brokenhearted friend meekly thanked.

"It's nothing," Sadie commented, taking her leave from the flat.

Marisol waited until the door closed behind Sadie before taking a deep shaky breath and turning to Lacy. She sniffled. "Thanks for pretending you didn't know," Marisol sweetly murmured. Lacy's steady hand placed itself firmly on Marisol's shoulder in an assuring gesture.

"It's better she doesn't know. So…it's over."

Marisol weakly nodded.

Lacy sighed. "It should've never happened."

"Yeah, then we'd actually be happy for her," sadness tainted each syllable, showing Marisol's disgust for only herself.

Lacy hugged her dear friend. "Do you think you'll be okay?" she asked, already seeing the answer in her friend's eyes.

Marisol frowned. "No, but I'll do what I've always done, act like I am."


	8. Dresses and Phone Calls

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Kane Chronicles.**

**Author's Note: Please enjoy reading this and if you want, review. **

_Two months later…_

A date had already been picked and the wedding planning was in full swing as Sadie met with her bridesmaids at a bridal shop, well most of them, Liz and Emma were still in England. Lacy arrived early, eager to start looking at dresses. Zia and Sadie got there just on time while Marisol shrugged off being thirty minutes late on account of she had to drop the kid off at her parents' place.

"So how about this?" Lacy asked, holding up a knee-length pale orange dress that dripped with lace.

Sadie shook her head, "No. I was thinking violet. Orange wouldn't be a color all of you could pull off."

Lacy shrugged and hung the dress back on the rack. "Dark or light?" she asked, taking into consideration the drastic affects both shades had on ones appearance, with different accessories, make up, and even hair color.

"Umm…in-between, so no lavender, but not so dark that it looks black," Sadie replied with the nick-picky selectiveness that brides often possess.

While Sadie and Lacy delved deeper in the racks in search of the perfect bridesmaids' dress, Zia quietly strolled over to where Marisol was standing. "How's your daughter?" Zia politely inquired.

Marisol jumped and curiously glanced around behind her. "You're speaking to me?"

Zia nodded, a small laugh hiding in her smile.

"Oh, okay. Umm… Roselle's good." Marisol stopped and angrily shook her head. "Actually, she isn't. She's been in a funk ever since her dad left," Marisol bluntly replied not with anger but instead with dazed disbelief that he truly was gone.

Zia shifted uncomfortably. The honest openness that Marisol had a habit of using had always been rather unnerving to her. "Well that's a shame. I can't for the life of me see how any man could be idiotic enough to leave you and Roselle." She honestly couldn't. Marisol was more than decently pretty, as well as overly accepting and honest, not to mention the girl was just so darn nice. Though, she did remember a few of Sadie's stories that painted the girl in a light that wasn't too flattering.

Marisol uneasily shrugged. "Yeah, he wasn't too happy either." There was a brief silence before Marisol continued. "There was another girl. His family likes her, and he doesn't want to let them down."

Zia sympathetically placed a hand on the younger girl's shoulder. "He's not worthy of you."

The girl softly chuckled, "Maybe, but I still…" her voice caught. "I still love him." Zia saw the raw pain in her eyes that fought back tears. Marisol took a deep breath to calm herself before turning to look at Zia. "You didn't come over here to talk about my messed up life, though. So…"

Zia had to admit the girl was no idiot, or so self-absorbed she didn't think of anything that didn't involve her. Zia shook her head. "No, I'll admit I didn't. I wanted to speak with you about your pregnancy because I'm…" She lightly placed a hand over her stomach.

Marisol face was already avidly lit up by a big grin. "Pregnant," she merrily finished. Zia excitably nodded.

"Congratulations," Marisol said, giving her friend's sister-in-law a quick hug. "Have you told Carter yet?" she keenly inquired.

Zia took a deep breath and tentatively shook her head. "No, not yet, but I'm going to tonight. I can't wait to see his expression."

Marisol jovially nodded. "Well, he'll either faint or go into baby-proofing the apartment mode. Either way I'm sure he'll be ecstatic."

Zia laughed. "How did Roselle's father react?" she solemnly asked.

The girl's smile faltered. "Uh… he…took it well, all things considered."

Zia's amber eyes rolled as she asked, "What things?"

From Marisol's face, Zia could tell this wasn't a favorite conversation topic of hers. She looked at Zia and decisively stated, "Let's just go with I'm an awful person."

Zia's brow frowned as she protested, "No, no, no, Marisol, you're a wonderful person."

Marisol's eyes bore into hers as she firmly replied, "No, no I'm not."

"Marisol—"

"He had a girlfriend."

Zia stopped. She started to speak but quickly decided against it and fled the awkward conversation, joining Sadie, who was looking through a row of the racks near the back wall.

Two hours later they had found a dress that all the girls could agree on and Sadie had started trying on bridal gowns. Then Zia's cellphone rang and she reported that Carter had something urgent to speak of with Sadie and her. Thus, the group split. Sadie and Zia headed back to Brooklyn House while Lacy and Marisol decided to head to Marisol's flat for lunch.

The door clicked shut behind Lacy as Marisol headed to the bathroom. "I'll be out in a few minutes," she stated as she ducked inside the powder room.

Lacy shrugged and made to sit down on the couch when the phone in the study began to suddenly ring. Lacy figured since Marisol was occupied she ought to answer it.

"Hello," she sweetly said into the receiver.

A raspy voice testily answered her, "Where is it?"

"What?"

"You know what, girl. Don't pretend you don't. Now tell me, where is it? You know the price if you don't," the voice vehemently hissed. The line went dead.

All Lacy felt was confused. She started pondering whether Marisol had gotten any other calls like that one, and if so for how long. She knew that Marisol's dad was in business, but now she was wondering, what kind of business?

"Lace, what are you doing in here?" Marisol stood in the doorway. Her kind smile rapidly turned into a worried frown. "What's wrong?"

Lacy fretfully glanced towards the girl she had thought she knew. "Your dad's business…" she softly began.

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Is it illegal?" her voice was barely louder than that of a whisper.

Marisol's mouth fell open as her eyes became wide. She hastily shook her head. "Whoa, babe, you mean like drugs and human trafficking?" Lacy nodded. "Hell, no. Da and I are not like that. Sure we have our fair share of questionable moments, but nothing like that. Why would you think that?"

Lacy placed the phone back in its holder, realizing it was tightly clenched in her hand. Marisol saw. "Oh," she softly murmured, "that?"

"Yeah, that," Lacy repeated. Her eyes were wide, like those of a deer caught in the headlights of a car.

Marisol sharply closed the door to the study. "We should talk about that." Her shoulders slumped as she stared forlornly at the black and red Native American looking rug that ornamented the floor. The call was connected to a part of Marisol's life that had been kept isolated deep inside her in a place of sorrow and despair. In vain she had hoped that questions would never be raised, but she should've known better. It's not like fate had ever been on her side.

"We should," Lacy warily agreed.

"Lacy, you can't tell anyone, not even Sadie, though it involves her. It actually involves quite a few people we know," Marisol stated, Lacy couldn't tell whether it was desperation or fear that fueled her plea.

"I won't tell," Lacy promised.

"I know." Marisol motioned for her to take a seat. "I wouldn't risk telling you if I didn't think you were capable of biting your tongue."

"Why not?" Lacy asked as she settled into the armchair that rested in front of the study's desk.

Marisol frowned dolefully. "Because I don't want to have to kill a good friend. Though, trust me if I have to I won't hesitate."

Lacy saw it in her eyes. She wasn't lying. Marisol didn't want to hurt her, but whatever it was Marisol was protecting she was more than prepared to kill for it. She was prepared to die for it. Though, she heard the boding in her friend's voice she was already too close to not ask and so Lacy implored, "Tell me."

Marisol gracefully took the seat opposite the chair Lacy sat in. "Just remember you asked me to." That afternoon Marisol told Lacy everything about herself. Lacy knew in the fraught silence that followed Marisol's words that she would never look at Sadie in the same way again.


	9. Simone Durand

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Kane Chronicles.**

**Author's Note: Thank you so much for the reviews, nicosnowangelo and IbeCrazy. I really appreciate the feedback. Please continue to enjoy the story and I hope you're having a good day wherever you are because I am. IHOP and Barnes and Noble, oh life's so very good. **

They found Carter outside his bedroom on the balcony gravely staring into the oily contents of the scrying bowl, though the conversation had long since ended upon their arrival. His eyes were hard and bloodshot while his tall frame stood frigid, as his worrisome thoughts ate at him. It hadn't been because of a minor disturbance that he had interrupted their bridal shopping. Something very serious had occurred in their absence.

Zia's eyes softened in concern as she noted the serious demeanor of her husband. "Carter?" she gently murmured.

Though his eyes rose to meet hers his mind was elsewhere. "Yes, Zia?"

"What's happened?" Zia inquired, the worry in her tone crescendoing.

Carter's fists tightened as hate simmered beneath his brown eyes. "Setne was spotted," he hostilely answered. Zia froze, but Sadie couldn't have looked more eager, well she could've of, if it had involved Anubis.

"Where?" Sadie pressed.

"Chicago," Carter solemnly answered.

Zia noticeably gasped. "Were they…?" she began.

Carter somberly looked at his love and nodded, "I'm afraid so, dear."

"But it's not like them to get involved. Unless…" Zia frowned. "What would bring them out; though, they're not frightened by much?"

Carter despondently shrugged his shoulders. "That's what I've been wondering. It's unlike them to bring public attention to themselves nowadays."

Eyes darting from her brother to his wife Sadie diligently watched as the conversation progressed, yet she understood nothing. She didn't know who the heck they were talking about, or why they were able to cause Carter and Zia to react in such a frazzled manner. "Uh," Sadie loudly began.

Zia's and Carter's heads turned to look at her, and Carter irritably asked, "Yes, Sadie?"

"Would you two geeks please inform me on exactly who it is we're speaking of. Excuse me, but I'm afraid I don't know what's the big fuss is all about…well, actually I just don't know what's we're talking about in general," Sadie commented.

Shaking his head Carter dismally suggested to the company, "I think we ought to discuss this in the study. This is a talk better suited for sitting down."

"Lovely, I haven't had the chance to sit all day," Sadie amicably agreed.

And so the group of three settled themselves comfortably in Carter's study so to continue the discussion. With his back straight and feet flat on the floor Carter allowed his elbows to rest on the desktop as he began a conversation he had long since hoped he would never be in the position of having to explain to his sister. "So," the words didn't come to him easily, after all it wasn't the simplest subject to explain. Sadie, already being as impossible as she was, didn't help matters much.

"So…" Sadie urged him on. She had other places she'd rather be then in a study being schooled by her older brother, such as that date Anubis had promised her later that day. He was going to take her to a movie, of her choosing her course. Him, being a gentleman, of course, the perfect dear. But alas, for the moment she was stuck in her brother's study, and thus figured she probably ought to make an attempt to listen to him explain whatever it was that he was so irked by since it seemed like it could be rather important.

"Umm…you remember Moses, yes?" Carter asked.

Okay maybe she didn't spend every free moment with her nose stuck in a book or at a museum, but she wasn't that dumb. "Of course, I do, Carter, dear. Everyone knows who Moses was," Sadie angrily remarked.

He leaned as far back in his chair as he could get from her fierce insulted glare. "Sorry, just wanted to make sure. Anyway, like you were told once he was the only magician not from the House of Life to win a fight against the House; however that doesn't mean he was the only magician ever to oppose the House," Carter explained, hoping his sister was able to grasp the profoundness of this statement and all the liabilities it carried.

Sadie only rolled her eyes, "Well of course, brother dear, remember Jacobi and Kwai."

Carter sighed and shook his head. She didn't understand. "No Sadie, I meant magicians from outside the House."

Her smug persona faltered. "But…" she started to protest.

"No, there isn't any debate. There's other things on this planet that don't involve us, no that's not right, ugh, how do I say this." He swallowed and took a breath to organize his thoughts. "Alright, how about this, there some things that just don't belong to anything and we call those things rogue. Yes, we also call magicians who've turned away from the House and continue their work in self-exile rogues as well, but they're not what worries. It's the other beings, some human-like while others aren't even close, that worry us the most. Many of these beings wield magic; types of magic the House either doesn't know or can't comprehend. These rogues are random in their strategy as far as we are able to tell, but they tend to live close to one another. Chicago is a great example of this; it practically belongs to the rogues; the population of rogues there is higher than any other city on the planet."

"Why Chicago?" Sadie inquired. "I mean there's London, Paris, New York, Boston, as well of a bunch of other cities to choose from. What's so special about Chicago?"

Zia and Carter lacked an adequate response. Placing a soft hand on Sadie's shoulder Zia answered, "We don't know. The House does know that rogues migrated heavily to the United States to evade prosecution for what they were in their old lands. I almost pity them because all they that wanted to was leave us, and we wouldn't let them and thus followed them to this country. I honestly know why Chicago was chosen, but after years of watching the city we've come to a few conclusions concerning the rogues. They exist in close family clans, and we knew that the clans fought frequently amongst themselves for centuries until about a thousand years ago, when the rogues just went quiet. They dissolved into the shadows and stayed there. However, there are a few big names that have business concerning with the rogues, some big names we believe are actually rogues themselves, though we can't prove it."

"Like who?"

Zia glanced towards Carter to see if she had permission. He shook his head; his eyes silently explaining to his wife that the line was too thin to be crossed and Sadie couldn't handle all that they knew quite yet. "It's best you don't know, Sadie," Zia calmly replied.

Carter cleared his throat to draw the attention in the room back to himself. "At the end of the day most rogues really hate us, and our best estimates of their numbers, though pretty high, can't compare to the numbers of those we don't know. It's been argued that there could be a thousand of them to one magician of the House of Life," Carter summed up.

Sadie understood the last part and what it meant; they had the potential to make a great ally to pit against the House of Life. "So, Setne's trying to get buddy-buddy with them," she inferred.

Dismally Carter shook his head. She couldn't have been farther from the mark. "Nope, they took him prisoner."

"He'll get loose," his little sister muttered, bitterly remembering how the Ribbons of Hathor had failed them.

"We don't know that. We don't know what they're capable of," Carter stiffly murmured in frustration.

"But why would they take him captive? What was he doing for him to warrant such attention?" Zia fervently questioned. Rogues weren't bold enough a people to do with something on this caliber without a really good reason backing their actions. The why was what mattered most when it concerned them, Zia knew.

"No idea. Jacob, you remember him?" Sadie shook her head. "Oh, well he's the leader of the nome in Chicago. Anyway he just said some that irritable rogues supposedly jumped Setne before taking him somewhere off even our maps. He suggested that Setne seemed like he had been looking for something before his capture."

Zia frowned. "What's could Setne be looking for that's important enough they would draw bring attention to themselves?"

Carter leaned back in his chair and silently pondering his wife's question. The answer came to him suddenly. "The same thing he always hungered for."

"And that is?" Sadie impatiently implored.

"Immortality."

The girls glanced uneasily at one another. "And the rogues possess that?" Sadie questioned, her tone heavily drenched in disbelief.

Carter mind was raced as he remembered some papers he gone over a few months back that just might be able to help him prove his argument. "I-I believe that they just might." The girls' gaze intensified. "The House has only ever captured one rogue. She was a small gawky thing as her keepers described, and the records say she died about twenty years ago. The magicians who studied her claimed that she didn't fear death. They also said she had a deep belief rooted in the theory of reincarnation, and ,well, they believed in her."

"And you? What are your thoughts, Carter?" his sister lazily asked, the topic was beginning to bore her and her thoughts had started to turn to her fiancé instead as the minutes dragged closer and closer to the time he had promised to pick her up.

"I…" Carter paused, "I believe she wanted help." The words rung through Zia's and Sadie's minds as his proposal steadily soaked into their minds.

His bewildered sister's eyes met his as she questioned his sentiment, "Help, for what?"

He shook his head; she never got anything until he explained it to her. "Not for, from. The girl claimed that she was cursed to die over and over again as she lived out hundreds of lives. Now, I can see how you're skeptical (Sadie's eyebrow couldn't raise much higher from its current position, nor could her scowl grow any deeper.) but during her interview she was able to speak quite vividly about her past lives, well from the cohesive segments her interviewers were able to piece together. Regrettably her sanity was long gone when they found her. She had been in a mental hospital in Paris for at about seven years before drawing the House's attention."

"Did she say who cursed her?"

"No, she said only why?"

"Well…" Sadie insisted for the explanation.

"She's the only one to know."

"Know what?"

Carter shrugged, finding himself at a loss of what more to say than, "That she didn't say."

"But you think that she knew what Setne wants to know," Zia guessed.

"No, I think Setne wants the girl."

"But you just said she was dead," Sadie sputtered.

"Yes, I did. Simone Durand died on her fifteenth birthday under the watch of Michel Desjardins in the 14th nome in 1997. However, she did say that she was cursed to not just die, but to be born again. So if that's true she would've been reborn. Therefore, we…" Carter excitably explained.

Sadie irritably rolled her eyes. "This is all good and great, but where would we look for the girl?" she stated, pointing out a major flaw in that plan.

"Simone wanted help. She wanted to tell us in her last life, so why wouldn't she have come to us by now? It's been twenty years," Zia stated.

A cold realization came to Carter. "She came to the House of Life while the gods were banished, and now the path of gods is being taught once again. What if…what if she'd rather see us dead than..."

"Assist the gods who cursed her," Zia said, finishing her husband's disheartening theory.


	10. A Night at the Movies pt1

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Kane Chronicles.**

**Author's Note: I apologize for not updating sooner, there's no really good reason for it. I've just been enjoying my summer, running trails and floating on an inner tube in a friend's lake. The water was perfect, too. I've heard predictions that the water won't get warm in the Big Lake until August, pity. Ms. Anon, thanks for your review and I'm glad someone finally brought up the points that you made (namely: Walt, Anubis's ability to go everywhere, and Shu) and I hope this chapter can adequately clear those up, but if you want more clarification by all means feel free to tell me. (I know I won't touch on the Marisol bit, but I'll get there later.)**

**Now for the way this chapter is written, I've decided to split it up into three updates because it's so long. Also I'm sure you've noticed I use italics when it's a flashback, and yes the whole chapter is in italics (until pt.3) because it's a huge flashback. Review if you want; I appreciate all feedback I get. **

_The afternoon was rather quiet at Brooklyn House. Summer was in her peak and many of the trainees had decided to temporally go home to visit their families while Carter had taken Zia out on a date to who knows where. Thus Sadie and Anubis had the living room, more importantly the flat-screen TV, to themselves. Sadie had leisurely stretched out on the couch, her legs comfortably resting atop Anubis's lap. He had indifferently agreed to watch this vampire movie because it was what Sadie wanted to do, but now he was bitterly regretting the decision. _

_From the start he was confused on why teenage girls were such huge fans of this ridiculous romance, and his mood only dropped as the movie sluggishly progressed. He didn't dismiss the idea of the existence of vampires, but he couldn't help but feel that it was unlikely that a vampire would limit themselves to the blood of wild animals and that their skin shines like diamonds. However, Sadie seemed to quite enjoy it and he didn't want to disappoint her. He was pretty sure that was it; though, it could have also been he didn't want to listen to her argue for the rest of the day (possibly week, maybe month) about how it was a perfectly excellent movie, and so when she asked for his opinion he gave her the kindest truthful response he could think of, "It was quite something." He just hoped his smile didn't look too fake._

_Sadie sat up far enough that she was adequately able to lean over and softly pecked his left cheek. "I'm glad you liked it because there's a sequel," she exultantly related._

_He nodded, coolly commenting, "Awesome," though, his insides were shrieking for gracious mercy. The optimistic side of him (that he hadn't known he possessed) reasoned the sequel had to be better, but since optimism wasn't really a normal thing for him it wasn't much of a surprise that it failed him. Anubis guessed that if he hadn't been born a jackal-headed god, or just a canine-headed god in general, it probably wouldn't had bothered him as much, but alas he was the jackal-headed god of funerals and so the sequel copiously offended him. You see it had werewolves. Werewolves that went around shirtless (with great abs, mind you) jumping off cliffs and imprinting on girls, some of who were just toddlers. Now sure he had great abs, but he wasn't about to go around shirtless, the ogling stares from the opposite gender he got whenever he took Sadie out on a date already freaked him out more than a little bit. He didn't even dare ponder what would happen if he'd taken his shirt off. As for the jumping off cliffs, not only was that reckless he had too much work in the Hall of Judgment to participate in such folly. As for girls, he had Sadie, and though he had immediately been drawn to her he wouldn't say it was love at first sight. It had taken him a few months of thoughts for him to figure out his exact feelings for her. _

_She had brought joy back to his life, and her admirable spunk and spirit made her all the more alluring. Sadie was pretty, but not the prettiest yet, though, she showed signs of becoming quite a beauty in just a few years. Sure, she was annoying a few times, okay, maybe more than a few times, but he didn't mind. He loved her. Sure__, maybe love was a strong word for so early in their relationship, but the more he thought about it, the more he was sure of it. He loved Sadie Kane. What he had for Anput had come from the lust that accompanied youthfulness as well as the high resulting from rule breaking, he was sure of it. What he had for Sadie, was the true love kind, the one that lasted forever, even with all the inane overdrawn fights and tedious outings that were made alright just because you're together. That's why when Sadie cuddled up next to him and whispered, "I'm luckier than Bella, can you guess why?" he was content. It didn't matter how stupid the film had been, he had spent the afternoon with her, and so was the luckiest person in the world._

_He good-naturedly shook his head, playing along. "Why?" he mirthfully murmured._

_Sadie flashed a teasing smile before softly kissing his nose. "Because I have you, and you're Edward and Jacob rolled into one." He tried not to scowl. Being compared to a werewolf and a blood sucking vampire, gee, what a lovely compliment; though, outwardly he serenely smiled._

_Returning his smile Sadie eagerly leaned in to kiss him. Anubis held her to him and several minutes passed in this way, neither noticing the ticking of the passing time. When the kiss broke and their noses remained only a centimeter apart, Sadie dared to make an inquiry: "So, I was wondering if you would be willing to meet a couple of my friends?"_

_With that adorable cuteness of his Anubis tilted his head sideways as he matter-of-factly stated, "I've met your friends."_

_Softly chuckling, she smartly remarked, "Yeah, Liz and Emma when we were being chased by a crazy vulture goddess and her rabid baboon god companion. Thanks for the load of help you gave, by the way."_

"_Hey, I gave you several tips, called your ride for you, and even managed to give you a couple of birthday presents. That blade and..." he mischievously smiled. "It was all I could do," Anubis sorrowfully remembered. Truly, it was all he had been able to do. If he could've helped, Nekbet and Babi would never dare to near Sadie ever again in fear of his wrath._

_Sadie's eyes inquisitively studied him. "I've also been wondering how it is that you can come see me now, considering Walt…died and is no longer your host." He heard the sorrow in her voice. Walt had been a good guy and his death was still fresh in everyone's minds. It seemed being his host hadn't been enough to keep the curse from claiming him. "I mean you said that you could only appear in places of eath, and later it was decided that since I'm a mortal and you're a god that we couldn't be together. So, what's changed?"_

"_Umm…I think it would be better if I tell you when you're older," Anubis shyly answered doing his best to dodge her question as a red blush began a slow conquest of his cheeks. _

_Evasion only made her curious; he ought to have known that by now. Sadie raised her brow and vivaciously ordered, "Tell me."_

_He shrugged. How he hated to deny her, so he told her. "Osiris gave permission that I'm no longer restricted to just places of death."_

"_Why?"_

_He paused, that was the rather embarrassing part. It had been painful enough to admit it to Sadie's father but to tell her… the agony. "I told him that if he let me court you that I'd, with your consent of course, would one day make you my wife as well as a goddess." Taking a deep breath to calm his taut nerves, he softly added, "That's also why Shu hasn't been a problem. He's been dismissed from his duty of watching me." His eyes were only too happy to study the lines and scars upon his palms as he waited for her response._

_Sadie looked to be at a loss for words, though; her giddy smile spoke loud enough to reassure him. Anubis's gentle fingertips delicately caressed her cheek and enamored he tenderly stated, "I love you, Sadie Kane. If you want me to meet your friends, I will. Whatever pleases you pleases me."_

"_Uh-uh…oh, Anubis," she sighed. "That's," her ability to speak was still somewhat impaired, "so sweet."_

"_So, this friend thing…" Anubis began, hoping she would be able to give a further description._

_Thankfully she was. "Yeah, I want for you to meet two other friends of mine, not Liz and Emma, but my friends Lacy and Marisol, instead."_

"_Wait," Anubis interjected, "isn't Marisol that girl you can't stand?"_

_Sadie nodded. "Uh-huh, we're friends now."_

"_Since when? And might I ask how that came to be?"_

"_It's a bit of a story."_

"_We have all of eternity," Anubis earnestly replied._

"_You remember Drew?" He nodded. "Good, well anyway Marisol only pretended to hate me to get into Drew's favor so as to leak her secrets to that anonymous gossip column that apparently both Lacy and Marisol run."_

_Anubis frowned, "Lacy and Marisol?"_

"_They've been best friends since diapers, I hear." Really, well he could see that. It actually explained a few things, like how Lacy was so knowledgeable of the goings on in Drew's clique or who she was always texting when she thought no one was looking._

"_Okay. So Marisol's not our enemy anymore?" he stated, just to make sure he wasn't losing his mind. _

"_Exactly. Now that we've got that cleared up. Lacy, Marisol, and I made plans to meet at the movie theater tomorrow and I was thinking you could tag along and meet them there," Sadie declared, shifting back to her main topic._

_He nodded, just depended on his work schedule. Osiris/Julius had given consent with the one condition that he didn't fall behind in his duties. "What time?" Anubis asked._

"_Seven, about. Lacy's curfew is ten, so she has to be leave at nine thirty, no exceptions," Sadie incontestably stated._

"_Sounds like a plan. I'm off by then," Anubis confirmed. It would mean a reduced lunch break and Ammit would get a shorter walk. Ammit wouldn't be too pleased with that development; she loved her walks._

"_Well, now that we've got that figured out, why don't we continue what we were doing?" Sadie sportively suggested. Anubis groaned inside. There seriously couldn't be a third movie, could there? Gladly he didn't find out because it turned out that wasn't what she was talking about as he realized the moment her lips enthusiastically returned to his._


	11. A Night at the Movies pt 2

**Dear Ms. Anon,**

**How about 'dilemma' instead of 'problem'? I totally understand what you were saying and great comparison, by the way. You're pretty close to being completely right; it's not even your fault for the small margin of wrong. It's the fact that I haven't elaborated enough on a connection between two of Anubis's loves that leaves room for error, and it's not even with how Anubis is feeling where you're erring it's…well your right about him , just there's more… a lot more to the feelings of one his loves. And Marisol? Well I would hate to ruin a surprise, so you'll just have to wait and see what becomes of her. As for the quick explanation of Walt and Shu, well I'm a blunt, straightforward person (and often, unfortunately for my sake, seriously you have no many times I've accidently insulted my friends, brutally honest) and that's really I can say about it. I look forward to any future reviews from you and have very much enjoyed your past two, even the critical one (you brought up a bunch of good points). Thanks for your lengthy reviews, and I hope life is going well for you.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Kane Chronicles.**

**Author's Note: First, an apology for the delay. I've had trouble revising, focusing on revising, and finding time to revise. I also have practice for Cross every day save Sunday and have been horrendously exhausted to the point I couldn't work on this, and then I had a cousin's grad party to attend, and well, hey, I got this done before July. So onto the second thing: The Doors, I love them. I'm not asking you to like them, I'm just warning you there's a conversation about them and you're going to see a lot of their songs' titles. If you want to look the songs up, be my guest (listening to 'Unknown Soldier' might help you understand the gunshot comment) but I don't care whether you do or don't, I'm just glad that you bother to read this, so thank you. As always, review if you want. Oh, and there are spoilers about the movie R.I.P.D., just saying.**

_The stuffiness of the evening air was made worse by the tightness of the city in the summer's sweltering heat. Though low in the sky the sun hidden behind a mist of thin smog was still an hour or two to setting. It was ten minutes before seven and Anubis was there just like he promised, but Sadie was nowhere to be seen. Thus anxiously he resolved himself to taking a seat on the bench outside the busy theater. Lots of people went in but none with colored streaks in the caramel-blonde hair that he so desired to see. Impatiently he began to tap his left foot upon the cigarette bud littered and gum wad spotted sidewalk as he urgently scanned the faces of passer-bys as seven came and went. She must be running late, he figured. Some trainee had probably had a minor accident that she was dealing with and she'd be there in just a few more minutes, but then of course it could also be something more serious. Brooklyn House could've been attacked again by some wayward magician or some god hungry for power, or Sadie could've fallen terminally ill and it was in this worry he temporarily forgot the world around him as he invented countless scenarios that could explain her tardiness, but it was also in this state that he was caught off guard by a soft kindly voice that came from behind him._

"_If you're looking for Sadie Kane, she's not coming." It was a melodic voice that was nice on the ears, and when he turned around he found its owner to be a thirteen, possibly fourteen-year-old girl on the tall and gangly side. Graceful auburn curls fell effortlessly down her back past the mid of her back and golden freckles spotted her fair ivory hued cheeks. Almost baggy light-blue jeans were in pristine condition except for some fraying at the bottoms of the legs and the black Doors t-shirt under her ragged faded jean jacket was a size or two big. Though, she was extremely pretty it was her eyes that he felt inexplicably drawn too. Sheltered by thick brown lashes the light blue irises couldn't help but attract attention to themselves. Hers were kind eyes, but it was the ageless quality about them that created intrigue. There was a modest confidence in the way she stood there staring back at him unblinkingly. Her eyes stayed on his, not even straying to even look him over to identify what type of person he was from his appearance. She didn't do that, it was almost like she didn't need to…like she knew him already. But he knew he had never met her, yet at the same time he felt as though he had. He had seen her face before, and not at that dance last year. No, from somewhere before he'd even met Sadie. But that made no sense he had rarely left the Hall of judgment in the past couple millennia and in the past two decades he knew that unless this girl frequented the French Quarter the chances that he had ever met her were pretty steep, so why did her face fill him with this sense of déjà vu?_

"_How do you know that?" he sputtered, he found himself rather hesitant, though, he couldn't figure out why he would be nervous. But that stare he felt like…like he didn't want to disappoint it. It was quite possible she was either Marisol or Lacy, but how would he know it's not like he had ever met either. As far as he knew she could be some she-demon intent on luring him into a false sense of security before violently ripping him limb to limb, but she looked rather human so he doubted the latter. Though the former could possibly explain the feeling of familiarity._

_She smiled as if he said something funny. Her smile was nice, almost made him want to smile. She pertly held out her hand for him to shake. Shyly removing his hand from his jean pocket he gingerly grabbed hers and shook. It was a proper handshake, just a brief shake as she amicably introduced herself. "I'm Marisol Ayden Jenkins. Your Sadie's boyfriend, yes?"_

"_Yeah. I'm Anubis Black." Marisol looked like she was choking on air as she bit her lip to prevent herself from laughing. "What's so funny?" he growled._

_Merriment glittered in her eyes as she gleefully replied, "Nothing, it's just that Anubis is the Egyptian god of funerals and death, and the color black is associated with death as well. Your name is just quite…um…coordinated, you know like a person wearing all blue, except it's your name not clothes and it's coordinated along a theme not a color."_

_His amused lips had a formed a smile without his realizing. "You're right. My name is hilarious," he genially agreed. _

_The girl casually shrugged. "And to answer your question Sade called when I was on the way here. She said that Carter and her were going on a sudden out of state trip. I have no idea where, so don't ask." Anubis believed her. He had seen enough liars to know one when he saw one. Marisol wasn't a liar. It also made sense. Sadie wouldn't had been able to call him because he was here and he didn't own a cell phone. "Lacy isn't coming either, just so you know. She's not feeling too well. Her dad said she threw up a few times around one and he thought it be best if she took it easy tonight." _

_Anubis dubiously gawked at her. "What? Wait, it's just you and me?" She placidly nodded. He shook his head, still not grasping why she was here then. He was a stranger and neither of her friends were coming. Now sure it was nice that she came and told him that, but at the same time he wouldn't of held it against her if she called a rain check as well. She didn't know him; he could be murderer for all she knew, and she still came. That astounded him. "Why didn't you cancel as well?" Anubis inquired skeptically._

_Marisol casually shrugged. "Well, I was pretty much here when Sade called and I figured it would be rude to leave you all alone here not knowing that everyone canceled, and hey, I love the movies." _

_Anubis stared at her. He didn't know what to say or how to react, so he just sat on that bench watching her. _

"_So, do you want to spend the rest of the evening on that bench, or would you rather go in?" Marisol teased. Anubis shook his head fighting a smile, as he promptly stood and followed her in. Marisol halted, looking up at a board that listed the movies and their times. He hadn't heard of any of them so of course Marisol had to turn to him and ask, "What do you want to see?" though he had no opinion on the matter._

"_Umm…" he was ignorant of what any of them were about, so he just randomly picked one, "Despicable Me 2?"_

"_Saw it with my aunt and her four kids last week," Marisol remarked bashfully._

"_The Lone Ranger?"_

"_With my dad."_

"_Uh, so what's R.I.P.D?" _

_Slightly dumbfounded she glanced at him a laughing smile on her lips. "Rest in Peace Department," she dulcetly answered. She took a moment's pause before with a playful slight tilt of her head she indifferently added, "I haven't seen that." _

"_Would you want to?" he casually returned._

_Marisol demurely shrugged. "Sure, if you want."_

"_Why not?"_

_Promptly Marisol nodded and headed towards the somewhat lengthy ticket line. When they were next in line as Anubis put his hand in jean pocket he realized the embarrassing fact that his wallet wasn't there. He had forgotten his wallet back in the Land of the Dead, and since he was in the presence of a mortal he couldn't very well just pull it out of the Duat. So, he was humbled to urgently whispering to an only too understanding Marisol, "I'm sorry, but I think I left my wallet at home."_

_With a patient smile she calmly stated, "Well that's okay, babe. I'll pay. Trust me, money isn't an issue."_

"_I hate to put you—"_

"_You're not," she gently interrupted, with enough authority in her tone to tell him to just accept the offer. As sheepish as Anubis felt there was nothing to do but let the girl pay for him. _

"_Next," the drowsy man in the ticket booth monotonously called._

"_Two tickets for R.I.P.D," Marisol readily provided as she pulled her bulging wallet out. She passed the ticket guy the money and he competently slid her two tickets. Briskly they moved on to another longer line for the concessions. She considerately asked, "What kind of soda do you want?" as they waited in the slow-moving crowd that loosely referred to itself as a line._

"_Soda?" he repeated as if it was a foreign concept. It might as well been to him. He had only begun to experience the drink when he began to host Walt. From what he tasted though it was almost as sweet as sahlab, but he still would prefer Nut's sahlab to a Coco-Cola._

"_Yeah, pop."_

"_Oh," he muttered as he realized what it was she was talking about and hastily answered, "whatever you're getting."_

"_Um…cool." She studied her Nike sneakers shyly for several moments before daring to look up at him. "Would it bother you if we shared then? It doesn't made sense to get two, if it's the same drink. Refills are free while another drink costs an extra few dollars."_

_He nodded. "That's fine, I understand." Mortals, always out to save a buck, hmm… even the good ones didn't mind having a bit of extra money set aside. _

"_All right then, you sure?" He firmly nodded. "Thanks." _

_When they got to the cashier Marisol readily ordered for them. "The third combo, please."_

"_What kind of pop would you like?"_

"_Rootbeer."_

"_Would you like butter on your popcorn, miss?"_

"_Yes, please."_

"_Extra butter?"_

"_No that's enough, thanks for asking."_

_The cashier placed a bucket overflowing with popcorn and a cup in front of them as Marisol paid. Marisol grabbed the cup and motioned for him to take the popcorn while she grabbed a straw and napkins. Marisol led him up a ramp towards the theaters and gave their tickets to an employee, who snapped off the stubs and returned the tickets before directing them to their theater._

_For Anubis it was curious to see how the general designs of theaters hadn't changed much during the transition from plays to movies. The only big difference was that all the seats faced this wide tall screen framed by musty dark red curtains instead of a stage. It was interesting to see how those old traveling troupes of performers that had wandered village to village to share their art had evolved into these speaking pictures that moved across flat screens. Marisol glanced back towards him and he found that he was still awkwardly smiling. Returning his smile with another of her own she benignly asked, "Where do you want to sit?"_

_Anubis shrugged. His last visit to the theater had been centuries ago. The last time he had gone to see a play some actor named Booth had decided it was a lovely evening to assassinate the president, boy hadn't that been a night. It was no wonder he preferred to remain aloof after that spectacle. Mortals just weren't no good. In the old days he had preferred either the front few rows or a balcony. But considering the screen was the focus point the thought that the front might not be the best seats in the house occurred to him. "It doesn't matter, whatever you want." It was better that she picked, he didn't know the dos and don'ts of movie theater seating and he didn't want to ruin her night by sitting in the wrong spot._

_Marisol curtly nodded, throwing a wary glance his direction. "Not too particular are you?" she murmured in annoyance. He followed her up to the middle back of the theater where they sat down in the direct middle of the row. She placed the cup in the holder as he sat. He looked up at the advertisements that were playing before glancing back at the girl sitting beside him. _

_Anubis frowned, he wasn't making much of an impression now that he thought about it. He probably ought to try to say something interesting, but what would interest Marisol. Then he remembered the name of the band on her shirt, The Doors. That sounded familiar. Of course, now he remembered. The Doors, that 1960's punk rock band known for their song's poetic lyrics and the fact that the lead singer, Morrison overdosed in Paris. Yeah, Love me Three Times Baby, Hello, I love You, Break on Through (to the Other Side), Light my Fire, Peace Frog… Uh-huh, he might be able to manage that._

"_So you like the Doors?" he hesitantly inquired._

_Marisol briefly glanced down at her shirt before answering. "Uh, yeah. You?"_

"_They're cool. What's your favorite song?" he suavely replied. He wasn't sure he was a Morrison fan, the guy did have a drug problem, after all, but he had to admit the band did have a number of good songs and were well credited for their work of mixing poetry with rock. _

_Marisol paused as she silently debated in her head what she ought to say. "Unknown Soldier. To be honest, I don't know why but even though I expect the gunshots every time I hear it I think they're going to be louder than they are and I nearly have an anxiety attack waiting for them. I also love Riders on the Storm, The Chrystal Ship, and even, don't judge me, Touch Me. What's yours?"_

"_The End."_

_Marisol laughed, "I should've guessed that. That song was for a movie, Apocalypse, right?"_

_He couldn't remember but it could've been. "Possibly," he shrugged. For an antisocial god of funerals he thought he was doing pretty well with this whole making conversation thing. It didn't feel as awkward as earlier so he didn't really think about it as he leaned over to Marisol and whispered, "Marisol, can I tell you something?"_

_She glanced at him with a suspicious gleam in her eyes. "Sure," she nervously answered._

_He drummed his fingers anxiously on the armrest. "I've never seen a movie in a movie theater," he solemnly muttered._

_Marisol's body instantly relaxed. She leaned over, failing to hold back her mirth that started as quiet chuckles only to rapidly turn into honest boisterous laughs. "That's great, really, that's just so great. Really great," she deliriously murmured to herself._

_He had no words, no he had words; he just didn't know which ones to say. 'What the hell is wrong with you?' seemed a tad strong while 'Is something wrong with me?' seemed too self-degrading. So he just stared at her with eyebrows frowning and mouth slightly agape. It wasn't long for Marisol to figure out that her reaction was no doubt a perplexment for the introverted Anubis._

_Marisol stifling her giggles, abruptly turned towards him. It took her a moment to focus and be able to look directly at him. "Okay, let me apologize for that. I wasn't laughing because I thought you're weird or anything. Actually, I was relieved. For a moment there I was scared that you were going to say something really serious, like about issue you have with your family or even with Sadie," he must have had a miffed expression because she then immediately added, "Not that you two have issues. You're no doubt a great couple and I think I'm going to shut up now before I accidentally insult you further." _

_Anubis didn't know what to think about Sadie's friend. She seemed nice, though like Sadie she spoke her mind, but with more reserve than Sadie. And that apology, he wasn't insulted, so she hadn't needed to, but she still had. It was nice. Sadie insulted people all the time, both purposefully and accidentally, and come to think of it he couldn't remember her apologizing once. No, he wasn't comparing Sadie to Marisol, was he? Oh gods, he was. If he remembered right Marisol was not the sweetest person, either, however when he looked at her he couldn't but doubt the stories about her. She just acted so honest and sincere that she couldn't possibly be the same girl Sadie had bad-mouthed throughout the past year. Her smile and laughter came easy, and she apologized. She apologized. Those unrepeatable words Sadie had spoke weren't right to describe one who had apologized so quickly for such a minor offense._

"_I'm not insulted," he assuredly commented._

_A content grin displayed her pleasure. "Well that's good," she beamed. He liked her voice, it was a kind voice that reminded you of everything good in the world like fresh baked cookies, sunny days at the beach, and the revelry he loved from good old New Orleans._

"_I think we might have the theater to ourselves," she observed after a fleet glance around them. Anubis swiftly scanned the room. Marisol was right, save them, no one was in the room. _

"_That normal?" he pondered._

"_Sure, if you live in small town America and it's a regular Tuesday morning during the school year. For Brooklyn on a Friday night it's not as normal, but I don't might it. Just means that we get to chat without getting shushed."_

_Sure enough her predication proved true as the lights dimmed and the previews began. The theater was all theirs, and like Marisol said it just meant they could continue talking._

"_Really, you're starting it with a fat monster thing running up the side of a building. Ugh," she groaned in disgust. _

"_That a bad beginning?" he ventured. The only movies he had ever watched were the two he had watched with Sadie the day before._

"_Uhh…no, it's just…it's not really that captivating, though, I'm sure the movie gets better. Now for a great example of a real solid beginning to a film look at Murder on the Orient Express. Sure, it's a tad dated but boy does that first scene always gives me the chills."_

"_Why?"_

"_The score, how the kidnapping is staggered by newspaper clippings, and the fact that it really happened," Marisol listed. Hmm…kidnapping and murder, okay? Marisol didn't strike him as a girl who was into all that. _

_Marisol softly sighed as she kindheartedly commented, _"_I don't know who I feel more sorry for: Julia, who thinks a Chinese man in stalking her, or her husband who isn't recognized by Julia because he looks like a Chinese man."_

_Julia, Anubis decided in his head. The guy shouldn't have taken the gold in the first place. _

"_Now that it think about I do know, totally Julia. He shouldn't had taken the gold," Marisol concluded. He glanced at her suspiciously. "What?" she chuckled noticing his stare._

_He shook his head. "Nothing," he murmured. Coincidence, it was only coincidence that she came to the same conclusion as he did. Marisol was mortal; it's not like she could read minds._

"_She's not going to die," Marisol confidently predicted after Hayes stabbed Julia._

"_Why not?" It looked like she was going to die, so why wouldn't she?_

"_Because they don't do that in movies. Somehow the girl always gets saved. Look at Disney for proof of that. Did you know in the original story of The Little Mermaid that the little mermaid was supposed to stab her prince on his wedding night if she wanted to return to her family and because she didn't she turned into sea foam."_

"_Sea foam?" _

"_Yeah, sea foam."_

"_Well, that doesn't make sense," he commented._

_Marisol shrugged, "It's a fairytale, it doesn't have to make sense. Wait, what? She died?"_

_Bewildered Anubis looked up at the theater screen and suddenly understood. Julia couldn't be seeing Nick as himself if she was alive, but since she was seeing him and not some Chinese man she had to be dead. Anubis chuckled as he watched a horrified Marisol. "Well, I guess that you're theory doesn't apply to this movie."_

_But just as he said that the movie decided to contradict him. "Hah, what did I say?" Marisol boasted. _

_Anubis stared at the movie in aghast. "What that's not fair. She was dead."_

"_Uh-huh, and then woke up in that hospital bed, very much alive."_

"_But that's not plausible, she died."_

"_Hon, it's Hollywood. They don't care about plausible."_

"_She shouldn't be alive."_

"_Well duh, and true love's kiss shouldn't have worked for either Sleeping Beauty or Snow White. It still did. Like I said the girl almost never dies."_

"_You said almost," Anubis pointed out._

"_So, there's always an exception," Marisol blatantly remarked._

"_Name one."_

"_Uh…it's hard to think of one off the top of my head. Wait, One Day. Anne Hathaway's character gets hit by a truck," Marisol replied._

_Wow, she was good, he had thought he had her. "Do you watch movies a lot or something?"_

_Marisol shrugged. "Maybe. Do you think we should get heading? It's the credits and that usher guy down there looks pretty eager to clean the place up."_

_Anubis looked behind him and sure enough there was the usher at the bottom of the stairs waiting for them to get a move on. "He does," Anubis snickered._

_As he escorted Marisol out of the theater he couldn't help himself he just had to ask," So what do you believe happens when you die?" The imaginative versions that mortals invented of life after death had always fascinated him. He had spent years pondering what it must be like to be human. Knowing that each day you moved closer to death, and then to not know what came after, must be terrifying to be mortal._

_Marisol laughed before answering with philosophical grace, "Well, isn't that the question everyone wants an answer to. After life what becomes of us? Do we dissolve into nothingness or is there a second life awaiting us? Most cultures believe if you're good in this life you get rewarded afterwards and if you're bad you get punished while still others believe in reincarnation. As for me I still don't know exactly what I believe happens. How about you?"_

_Anubis laughed, should've expected she'd return the question. She was a friend of Sadie's, after all. "A mix of both theories."_

_She nodded before stating, 'Wait here while I call my ride." It only took her two minutes for her to return. "He'll be here in ten."_

"_So, what did you think of the movie?"_

_Marisol shrugged. "It was okay. Parts were funny and other hmm.." Anubis smirked. "Really I did like it, it's just I hated those CGI deados."_

_Anubis scoffed. "Why?"_

"_Because they're supposed to represent the rotting of our society, but they didn't quite fill me with dread," she crisply noted._

_Anubis nodded. "But they were grotesque."_

_Marisol shook her head, "Sorry I prefer the vintage monsters from the black and white era, the hours of make up that went into some of them, just breathtaking. The early vampires and Frankensteins are freaking demented which make them pretty awesome. Though, I will admit I have a soft spot for Imhotep because I love the scene in the 1998 version of 'The Mummy' where a scarab crawls out of a hole in his neck and into his mouth and he chews it. You haven't seen The Mummy have you?"_

_His blank face answered her question. He'd made mummies, though. Telling her that would probably freak her out, however, so he kept silent._

_Merrily her eyes looked up to the sky. "It's alright. Should've guessed, considering this was your first night at the movies. I actually prefer the 1932 version anyway, I love the it when the assistant realizes the mummy left his sarcophagus so poor guy cracks into delirious laughter because he just lost his mind, " she noted._

_Smiling came surprisingly easy now. It was weird considering he just met her but he found himself enjoying talking with her. Weird. Bubbly, chatty people usually annoyed him._

_After a quick glance at her phone, Marisol excitably turned to him as an idea occurred to her. "Why don't you come over to my house? We could watch The Mummy, both the 1932 version and the 1998 version, as well as The Mummy Returns. Only if you want, though, and if your parents are okay with it," Marisol eagerly suggested._

_His parents wouldn't care; if they cared they wouldn't had abandoned him to his aunt and uncle. As it was Osiris/Julius and Ruby barely noticed him when he was there so he doubted they would notice if he returned home late. Since it was a pleasant night and he was enjoying himself with Marisol he nodded to her and decisively agreed, "Sure."_

_With a wide grin she noticed an old black jaguar coming towards them. "And that would be my chauffeur, Mr. Black," she reported with a teasing air of extravagance._

"_Chauffeur?" he eyed the girl curiously. Now he hated to judge people, though it sorta was his job, but this girl hadn't struck him as being rich, but then again he could be unfairly classifying all rich people as snobs. Looking at the girl in her jeans and baggy shirt he couldn't grasp the size of her family's bank account, or even the fact that she probably had a trust fund. _

_She coyly smiled back. "Well, I did say money was not an issue."_


	12. A Night at the Movies pt 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Kane Chronicles.**

**Author's Note: Feel free to review. I would love to hear what you think of the story so far. Anything confusing that I should clear up (keeping in mind some things I purposefully make confusing)?**

_Marisol had not lied about her family's wealth Anubis observed as he entered her family's apartment. In the foyer a Louis Tiffany stained glass lamp graced a sturdy cherry maple antique side table that sat next to the door of a closet that served as a humble coatroom while an imposing grandfather clock stood watch on the opposite wall. The clock face a masterpiece of its own due with a rotating circle, one half to represent the day and other the night. Light hardwood floors split in two directions; one towards the living room that featured two large leather sofas, a plush recliner, and a coffee table all resting atop a stunning garnished Persian rug, and the other towards a beautiful kitchen that would've been a professional chef's envy. Between the hall that separated the two rooms there was a door that opened to reveal a posh powder room, and beside the dining room that overlooked Central Park was an elegant glass staircase that spiraled up to the bedrooms. Seriously the place looked like it could have come out of one those Home Improvement magazines._

"_So how'd your family get their fortune?" he brazenly inquired. Anubis knew that by some it could be considered a rude question, but he didn't think Marisol would mind._

_The girl tentatively looked him over in curious trepidation before hesitantly replying, "My father's in business, however the family's old money out of Chicago."_

"_Why'd you leave Chicago?" _

_There was a long pause, not a gap resulting from her collecting thoughts but instead reserve. The kind of reserve reared from a healthy fear of something that could potentially get you killed. "We had business to take care of here," she stiffly answered._

"_What kind of business?"_

_Teasing lips smiled as she softly murmured, "The kind your parents don't tell you about." It was then he suddenly noticed how eerily quiet the apartment was. He barely even heard the city. All he heard were the sounds of their presence: their muffled steps on the cushiony entry rug, their steady cycles of inhaling and exhaling, and the whoosh of the door as it was sent on its way to closure before the dull thud and metallic click of the lock._

"_Are your parents sleeping?" he uneasily asked. There were no obnoxious snores, no soft mumblings from the other rooms, no footsteps or drowsy calls to greet their daughter. Only quiet._

_Languidly, Marisol nimbly placed her jacket on the table in the foyer. With a mischievous grin she chuckled, "How should I know? They're on a business trip in London."_

_Anubis stared at her, his mouth hung open with stunned incredulity. "And you still invited me over?"_

_She shrugged as if was nothing, and to her it probably was. "So, all we're going to do is sit there on the couch as we watch a few movies while snacking on junk food," she candidly stated._

_Anubis guessed she was right and for the first movie (the 1932 version) it was just as innocent as she described. They sat on her black leather couch stuffing their faces with cherry Twizzlers and these delicious muffins she had baked earlier in the day (he was tempted to ask for the recipe) as they watched the black and white film._

_They watched most of a second movie (also called The Mummy to his belief) but didn't quite make it to a third. The night was late and his eyes drooping as the soft hum of the city and television just barely kept him awake. Marisol had some time ago decided that his shoulder made for an excellent headrest while her glazed over eyes maintained steady contact with the screen. The faint scent of her strawberry and vanilla scented shampoo lingered on her silky hair mixing with the tangy smell of her fruity perfume as the scents wafted into his nostrils. He found his eyes deserting the movie and watching her instead. Watching the steady rise and fall of her chest as she inhaled and exhaled, the flutter of her golden lashes as she blinked, and the lovely inviting curve of her full rose-hued lips. Devoid of rational thought his hand reverently weaved in and out of her thick wavy curls while his mind was stupefied by the mesmeric beauty of the fair girl beside him. Traitorous lips betrayed heinous thoughts as they softly uttered, "You're beautiful."_

_Startled blue eyes received his compliment, their owner hesitantly murmuring in a dreading stupor, "What?"_

_His lips claimed hers lustily. She ought to have pushed him away and chastised him on what a despicable person he was, but she didn't. No, instead she let his lips take their pleasure with hers. Though, she didn't return his kiss, he didn't stop. He wasn't going to break away as long as she was willing to continue, and she most definitely wasn't pushing him off. His hands losing interest in ruffling through her hair moved down creeping under the fabric of her shirt. One second's pause and her brief nod, the only consent she gave and he reveled in it as their position already comprising became damning.__His hands touched her in places his hands had no right to be as he passionately kissed her with lips that should've been Sadie's alone. Anubis knew Marisol that night in a way he shouldn't have known her ever. _

_Morning came and he woke to her body entwined around his and the guilt-ridden realization of what he'd done struck him. "No," he despondently muttered. "No, no, no," his voice cracking with dread. Her eyelids blinked open, her blue eyes watching in muddled befuddlement as he detached himself so he could find his clothes amongst their garments haphazardly strewn upon the floor. "No, no, no." Once having managed to be properly dressed he allowed his gaze to wander back over to the girl who had crossed her arms across her chest in a futile attempt at modestly where she sat, not having left that couch where they had betrayed her friend, his girlfriend._

_He shook his head, not understanding. Sadie said Marisol was her friend. "Why didn't you stop me?" he desperately pleaded. _

_A good friend would have shoved him away and then called Sadie to immediately report what he'd done. What reason did she have? Did she want to hurt Sadie, were Sadie's stories about her that he had so quickly dismissed more accurate than he had thought? Was she just a cruel child who enjoyed causing pain? Was she... No, her eyes told him. Last night, no, it had nothing to do with Sadie. So why? Her eyes were trying to tell him, he could tell, but whatever they were trying to say got lost in translation. And somehow he knew that Marisol didn't have the ability to voice what they were saying. She wanted to, but she just couldn't. Something was stopping her, what? Was it the same thing that made her pause when he asked why they left her family's Chicago? Yes, yes, her eyes said. I'm sorry, they whispered over and over. Sorry, sorry, sorry..._

_With contrite eyes she dared to look back at him and answer his question with another. "Why did you kiss me?" Why, indeed? But those reasons didn't matter, they were flawed reasons. He was Sadie's. Sadie. He couldn't only place the blame on Marisol, though. She didn't stop him, but he had started it. He kissed her, and if he hadn't he knew Marisol wouldn't have crossed that line with him last night. _

"_Please," he gravely murmured. If Sadie learned…_

_Marisol sincerely nodded. "She won't hear it from me."_

_Though she had proved herself to be a terrible friend he believed her. Whispering "thank you" he fled the apartment and started towards Brooklyn House, towards Sadie._

_The House's tenants warily eyed him as he made his way up to the classrooms. Interrupting the class she had been teaching he pulled her close to him and held there in a somber hug. Nothing else mattered as he tightly held her to him, not the stares of her pupils nor even Marisol, only Sadie mattered. What Sadie and him was true love. It was. Last night meant nothing. He loved Sadie. He was going to marry her. He was going to make her a goddess and they would spend eternity together. Last night wasn't him, and he knew the minute that he thought that, that it was true. It's like something, a part of him, buried deep inside him, in a forgotten alcove of his mind, had possessed him last night. It had wanted Marisol desperately, as if it had been waiting for her for ages. Perhaps it had, but why had it wanted her when it should've wanted Sadie. That's what he couldn't figure out unless...no, he was Sadie's. He was Sadie's._

"Hey, Anubis, could you get popcorn?" Sadie inquired, already handing him the empty bucket along with the pop cup, empty too except for the ice.

"Of course, my love," he coolly replied, quickly pecking her on the cheek as he departed the theater for the lobby. Like usual the line for the concession stand was ridiculously long, and he was left too much time for thoughts to wonder and as usual they sprinted toward Marisol. He should've told Sadie that morning after. She would've yelled and probably even broke up with him, but he wouldn't carry this guilt. Why had he kissed her? Why? He had convinced himself that it was the smile that he could so easily lose himself in or that charming positive attitude of hers, though in the back of his mind he knew it was neither. So he would tell himself it was because she had apologized. She had apologized when so many others that had done worse things to him never had. Even his mother had never actually looked him in the eye and told him that she was sorry for giving him up. Anubis knew that theory was wrong as well. The closest he had ever gotten to figuring out why had been a few years back. Sadie had gone to Marisol's, good thing she had. Found her crumpled form on the kitchen floor, blood-stained knife gingerly held in her right hand. The ambulance sirens, the shuffle of doctors, and the beeping of machinery. He hadn't known she was so miserable. Why, he had asked himself over and one night when she woke to him beside her, he began to grasp at an explanation for everything about her.

_Hooked up to the beeping machines and IVs in that hospital bed in a cramped room the size of a closet she looked so small and helpless looking. Happy, hopeful Marisol, what could make her attempt this. To feel that so low that she wanted to take her life. It was mid afternoon and the sun just barely made it over the tall buildings to sneak in between the closed curtains and into the room. Marisol was just waking from a nap when she saw him next to her. A smile played on her lips as she playfully stated, "Well hello, babe." He brought her hand to his lips, so thankful that she had failed in her attempt._

_"Why did you it?" he bluntly asked. It was killing him to not know. She loved life, her family and friends, and Roselle. Roselle, she loved their baby girl so very much. How could she think of abandoning their child like that?_

_Her voice told him nothing, however, her eyes told him everything. In those blue irises he saw clearly what had pushed her to that point. Him. "I'm sorry," she whispered, but she wasn't really. She really wanted to die. Though she was smiling in that easy way of hers, she wanted to die. Her apology wasn't about trying to kill herself, no, it was for something else, something bigger. She wasn't apologizing to him, no she was apologizing to thin air, to the ghost of the past. Guilt ate at her behind those eyes as she wistfully muttered, "But you should've let me die. It would've been easier."_

"_No, no…it wouldn't have been. Think about Roselle. If not for yourself, live for our daughter," he protested._

_Marisol cynically frowned as she weakly shook her head. "You don't understand. Now history has to repeat itself. If I had died maybe it could turn out okay, but now...I've grown to like her, too. It's a shame but now...may the world be damned. I'm doomed now, she has to die, and no doubt if she's like the last she'll take the whole world with her. Selfish snob, if only knew you what you've caused, girl," Marisol bitterly spat. Tears of anguish clung to her lashes, stinging her retinas._

_He was confused. "What are you talking about Marisol?" Happy, positive Marisol, what had happened? It's like an internal switch had flipped and that girl was no more. All this girl was anger and pain, only bitter truths and wistful regrets._

_She sadly chuckled, her crazed eyes lost in her delirious mirth, "That's just it, you can't remember."_

"_Remember what?"_

"_The before, Anubis. The before." She spoke to him as if he was the student who just couldn't learn his lessons, though, they should've been the easiest thing in the world to grasp._

"_Before what?" he implored._

"_This cursed waiting, of course." __It was then that he came to a realization, this was her why. The answer to his question of why she hadn't stopped him. No, he didn't have her exact reason, but that was when he started to get it. There was a bigger picture. The reason she hadn't cancelled and met him at the movies that day, the pause after he asked why her family left Chicago, the part of him that made him kiss her, why she wanted to die. It was all connected, somehow. The before and the waiting...what was she waiting for? The big picture. That was her reason. Everything she did was for what was awaited. He understood, he understood why she tried to kill herself. Marisol didn't want the waiting to come to its end, whatever she was waiting for, it was big, altering. Something that terrified her enough that she didn't want to live anymore. By saving her they had doomed her. Doomed her to what, though? He didn't know, but for some reason he felt that he was supposed to be beside her, like that was where he belonged in the grand scheme of things; though, Anubis knew that was just folly because he was Sadie's and it was beside Sadie that he belonged._

Outwardly he must've looked troubled while lost in his thoughts because a voice from behind startled him as it suddenly asked, "Something bothering you, son?"

Spinning around Anubis found himself facing a heavily tattooed bearded man with shaggy greasy hair, black as slippery oil. Though his ecru skin was covered with a disorienting number of images one managed to especially catch Anubis's attention, even though his scraggly beard hid most of it. What he could see definitely intrigued him, though. It was on the left side of his neck, just below the chin. The tattoo closely resembled the Set animal, except it was odd because the animal was bowing to something, rays of something, but that scraggly beard hid exactly what the rays were coming from, so for the meaning of the image he was at an impasse. He didn't ask about the tattoo, it didn't feel right to.

Anubis shook his head, remembering he had been asked a question.

"You sure, boy?" the man asked once more. His accent was odd, Anubis couldn't quite place it. It seemed both old and inflected by many peoples of several lands.

Anubis nodded, firmly answering, "Yeah, I'm sure." The man's gaze didn't leave so the jackal god figured that he ought to make small talk, them standing in this infernal line and therefore stuck with one another for several minutes more. "So, what movie are you seeing?"

The tattooed man faintly smiled, sending chills down Anubis's spine. "I'm not here to see a movie."

Anubis uneasily glanced around, this man was starting to freak him out. If he wasn't here to see a movie, why was he here? And in line? Unless he just wanted overpriced movie theater popcorn, but that wasn't the most logical thing to do, so Anubis concluded that something was up. "Why are you here then?" he inquired.

"I'm looking for someone."

"Who?"

The man dismally shrugged, "I don't know. The last time we met her name was Simone," he coldly replied.

Anubis frowned. "Doesn't ring a bell, sorry."

The tattooed man merely smiled that creepy smile of his. "I didn't expect for it to," the man nonchalantly replied.

"Well, I hope it turns out well for you," Anubis stated. He hoped for this Simone's sake that the man didn't catch up with her. The man didn't feel...ugh, he had a past. A quick look in the Duat showed the darkness that surrounded him, truly a man with many ghosts.

"It won't," the man bleakly predicted, "it never does with her."

Anubis nodded as if he understood when in truth he just wanted to get back to Sadie and as far away from this individual as he could. "That's too bad," he remarked, thankful that the cashier called next, and it just happened that there was no one in front of himself.

As he settled back into the rickety theater seat his mind drifted away from the bomb bursting, gun-shooting adventure flick Sadie had chosen. It just came to him that the man looked strikingly familiar to him. Something about him and that tattoo. Finally it occurred him he had known a man with a similar tattoo many millennia ago, a man who once had been his father's priest before disappearing into the sands of the desert in self-chosen exile.


	13. Anastasiya Volkom

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Kane Chronicles.**

**Author's Note: Yeah, I meant to update sooner, but darn procrastination. Concerning my next update, I honestly don't how long it will take me because I'm going to be busy this next week with stuff like tonight we're apparently going to my grandma's house for a party (I hear there's going to be a pig roast, which disgusts my darling mother greatly) and Driver's Training is coming up...so less time to do this. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter and that life is going well for you.**

_Asya vaguely reminded him of that princess who had been confined to a tower while he watched her sitting there at her vanity as she brushed stubborn knotted tangles out of her naturally straight golden locks made wavy from the tight braids she always wore. Like that princess in the fairytale she was trapped and isolated from the world, but instead of it being a witch as her captor it was the mister who was forbidding her from leaving the grounds and on the bad days her room. More often than not the mister had business up in Seattle, so the duty of seeing that she stayed put was often left to his oversight. He hadn't truly realized the necessity of this duty until one autumn day late last year. He had gone to fetch her a cup of tea, an absence of only several minutes, yet when he went to check on her she had gone missing. That afternoon the mister and him scoured the woods behind for hours until they came upon her in a quiet clearing. She had been crying. Something about a princess and a god, was all he was able to understand amid her nonsensical babbling._

_ The miss wasn't dressed for the day yet, and the rich black silk robe __lazily __hung off her thin shoulders, much too thin now that he thought about it, revealing the puffy sleeves of the crisp white nightgown she wore. Absentmindly she was stroking the sleek black and white spotted pelt of one of the many cats the mister kept. Said they make up for the family he lost, like Asya did, except she wouldn't be around as long his feline companions. Once Alex asked what he meant by that and smirking the mister had blatantly remarked that she don't ever last anywhere long. That's just how it's always been, hard to break old habits, son. _

_"Sweet Caoimhe," she softly whined, "isn't waiting so very dreadful?" As if waiting for the cat to respond she allowed the creature a moment of thought before soon concluding the cat had no comment to make. A weary sigh and the miss was continuing on with her thought, sneering more and more the further on she went,"Alas, my darling, there is nothing I can do... but continue in this loathsome waiting. Horrible stupid selfish girl, just you wait foolish child. Look at what you have made of me; all I am is a meek child born only to sorrow and pain. When it's you who should be being punished so. Twas you, princess, that was the one to break the rules. Before you I was happy. He..." _

_At his entering his foot chanced an unintended meeting with the floorboard that was always creaking. Blonde curls snapped towards him at the sudden sound of the floorboard's disturbance, her wide eyes cautiously studying his person. The miss's startled reclusive expression instantly morphed backed into her approachable laughing smile. "Good morning, Alexander," her kind voice was touched by the same beauty that was found in the haven of the gardens she cherished so._

_His lips curved upwards into a goofy grin. Clarity held grip of her behind those beguiling blue irises today. Asya was the mister's adopted daughter, as he had learned when he asked her why it was the mister called her daughter yet she called him uncle. They had came to Seattle in the months following the flu's wake. Good people, they had kindly taken him in and given him this job, though he was only just a lad. Sixteen years this summer. The miss had only fourteen to her due._

_ "I brought up your breakfast, Miss Asya," he stated, lifting the silver tray he held. Poached eggs, three orange slices, and two chocolates wrapped up in gold foil wrappers, all on their own separate china plate. The plates unfailingly plain like her room, white except for a silver border._

_"Leave it on my desk, and Alex, take a chocolate for yourself," she gently ordered. Miss, had always been the kind sort, at times distant but never intentionally cruel in her speech and action. He knew she liked chocolates, and so one day thinking he'd get to glimpse her lovely smile he started placing two on her breakfast tray every morn. Not only had she smiled but also shyly she had murmured something about how so very sweet he was. From that day to this present one, she always told him to take one for himself. Explaining to him once that everyone ought to have at least one thing that brightens their day, and in reply he always would say that he didn't need chocolate to do that; her smile was just as capable. Nonetheless Asya would jovially chuckle, telling him to take the chocolate anyway, and he always did. Though, her smiles were still sweeter by far, and as he was starting to learn, her kisses sweeter than even those smiles._

_He made to exit, pausing at door's frame. Turning back to look at her he hesitantly murmured, "Asya?" In truth her first name was actually Anastasiya. He didn't know the surname she had been born with, at some point in recent history she had taken the mister's, Volkom. Wolf , rumors theorized about the mister. Alex doubted them, but he knew the townspeople were deadlocked in their beliefs, and he himself couldn't dismiss all the odd things that seemed to happen around the mansion. Like last week one of the gents that be doing business with the mister, Alex almost swore they were speaking another language, he had heard the name of a country, Egypt, come up among what to him could only sound like gibberish . But what the mister did and who he talked to, that was none of his business so he didn't waste his time pondering over it all. With Asya and the mister it was easier not to question things, safer too. __These men, they weren't the good sort. The looks and feelings he got from them, not quite human. Not ruthless exactly though, nor soft either. But they were patient, like they had all the time in the world and sometimes he caught himself thinking that maybe they did. Maybe time was a joke to them, a plaything easily toyed with and of no great consequence. They came from Chicago mostly. Speaking in solemn whispers and plotting looks they had all of the characteristics of those in preparation for something big. That was the feeling he had got since he first started here, that something big was happening or going to happen, and Asya, she was part of it, the big something. How though? She was a fragile thing with a scrambled mind. What role could she play? Asking that led him to thinking about her just in general, and he always found himself asking the question of who was she. Really, who was she before she came here? Where had she called home? Whom did she love? Her parents, her friends, her neighbors...who were they? Did she think about them a lot? Or had she done her best to forget them to the past?_

"_Yes, Alex?" her soft voice ventured, bringing his focus back to the girl currently in front of him. She was standing now, and was closer. Close enough he could count the number of rings on the chain around her neck before it disappeared beneath the fabric of her nightgown's collar. Caoimhe had fled from the presence of her master's ward._

"_What happened to your family?" It was a daring question to ask and one he himself had no right asking for as it was he himself no longer had a family to speak of. The Spanish flu had taken his mother and four younger sisters while his pa had died of a family illness before even the war. Likewise pa's siblings had all died young and before the war while his grandmother passed in the December of 1917 from a heart attack. __The Volkoms were all he had nowadays. He lived in their house, in a guest room they provided, and ate the food that their money bought from the grocer's. Though, he missed his own family, he was content here with Asya._

_Asya morosely frowned. Her frowns made him frown, for beautiful creatures like Aysa ought to not be knowing sorrow. "They're all dead, Alex. My mother died birthing my stillborn sister while father was shot fighting in the war. As for darling Leonid, boy, he was so small, it wasn't a surprise that after the flu claimed him he passed less than a week later." Tears dripped from the corners of her stunning pale blue eyes. Eyes that he lost himself in if he didn't keep in check._

_He sincerely bowed his head. "I'm sorry for asking, miss."_

_She attempted a smile, but it was a broken thing. "It's alright, Alex. I don't mind you're asking." He knew she didn't, but he minded the pain the memories gave her._

_Since he had already asked a question out of his bounds it couldn't hurt him for to ask another. _"_Miss Asya, mind my asking, but do you ever think you would marry me?" It was an indignant question to ask…but he loved her. He'd been in love with her for a while now. Those stolen moments, just him and her, they were the highlight of his days. _

_She wistfully smiled. "Alexander," she softly began. She solemnly nodded, her honey sweet voice saying, "Of course, Alex, when that day comes. I would marry you because I know I'd be happy, you'd take care of me and our future children, and I believe I could be a good wife to you." Biting her lip nervously and her eyes no longer able to keep contact with his, she continued, "However, regretfully I'm afraid I wouldn't love you. Now see, I really would like to, but another owns my heart. It shall always be his, no matter how he wounds it."_

_Alex frowned, he never would hurt her, only protect her. How was it she could she love someone who was hurting her when she had him? "Who?" he anxiously inquired, though, Alex already knew who. His was the face that she was always sketching, especially on her less lucid days. Yes, she never left the house and Alex was the only boy who she could possibly interact with, but this was the boy connected to the nightmares. How, Alex wasn't exactly sure, but the boy had a role in it all the same Alex had concluded. _

"_Don't worry, Alexander. My hand is yours in this life if Vadim wills it so," Aysa distantly remarked as if trying to make amends somehow. Yes, he wanted to marry her, but he also wanted her to love him and forget this boy._

"_But your heart?" Alex asked, quickly realizing he had spoken out of place._

_Her blue eyes met his with a fierceness he had never glimpsed in her gaze before. "I've lived hundreds of lives and died hundreds of deaths because I love him. If eternity is how long I must wait for him to find me and break this damned curse then that is how long I will wait for him. Oh, I live, but I take no joy in it without him. Yes, when Vadim gives my hand to you I will marry you gladly, and I am sorry, I truly am, but I will never truly love you. I just can't, for if I stop loving him everything I've suffered has been for nothing. Can't you understand that I am his and he is mine, even if it is he can not remember me? They've torn us apart, but..." She crumbled to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest. Rocking back and forth while frenzied tears ran their course. Between choked sobs she weakly ordered, "Please go, I wish be left alone." Though he wished to sit down beside her and hold her until the tears had lapsed he had a feeling he couldn't comfort her in this, this was beyond him._

_Aysa's eyes flew open. Where was she? This bed she was laying, it was not her own. The classical paintings on the gold patterned wallpaper, they were not of her husband's picking. Where was he? Where was Alex? He had promised he'd never abandon her. Where was their baby boy, Davis? This carpeted floor that her feet sunk down into was not right. Their bedroom's floor was hard-wood. The luscious gardens street below resplendent in dawn's warm rays beyond the black shutters__ were not the overgrown rose bushes and wildflowers that were supposed to be there._

_From her place at the window she didn't even turn when behind her a door opened and a man entered carrying a tray. Asya heard him setting the tray upon the writing desk pushed up against the east wall and the whoosh of an aging chair's cushions as he sat. In utter puzzlement she turned around to view her companion. His skin was tan, he wore linen robes, and had a goatee. _

_"Morning, Simone," he purred. French, the accent and words were distinctly French. She knew French?_

"_Who?" she asked, speaking English, though her voice was not her own. It was the rasp of some French girl's. Who was this Simone? Wait... was she Simone?_

_The man laughed, realizing his error and switching to English for her comfort. "Who are you today, my dear?"_

_The girl's blue eyes narrowed before she proudly declaimed, "I'm Aysa Volkom. Where is my husband and son?_

_The Frenchman watched her curiously like she was some animal confined to a cage within a zoo. It was then that she noticed he was scribbling away in a journal. Who was Simone? Was she some test subject of French scientists? This was probably just another nightmare, she'd probably wake up in Alex's arms in a cold sweat and he would kiss her forehead and gently whisper into her ear that everything was okay and that it had been only a dream. The cotton, Egyptian cotton she noted recoiling at its touch, of the blanket was too soft against the tips of her fingers for it to be a creation of her imagination as she sat at the edge of the bed._

"_Husband?" the man amusedly inquired, taking into consideration the young age of the girl before him._

"_Of course, my Alex. He has lovely eyes and is so very kind. He's tall and he's…."The images of her final moments flashed before her eyes. Her leaving their bed as she wandered out into the night, heading to the clearing where her old acquaintance waited. That wretched prince, why was it always him? After his countless futile attempts he should've figured out by now that she would never let it fall into his pitiful clutches, and even if she had he couldn't do anything with it. The fool needed her, otherwise it was just another golden trinket of his bygone civilization. Completely useless without her, its keeper. "I died," she unblinkingly declared._

_The Frenchman nodded, commenting, "That's usually what you say."_

"_What happened to them?" the crazed thing desperately inquired with wide eyes and trembling frame._

_Truly Michel Desjardins felt pity for the child. So many years to hold, it was no wonder the creature had gone mad. "Tell me the names and I'll look into it." And he did. Both husband and son dead in their twenties due to a family illness. He didn't find it in him to tell the girl, she was already pained enough. As he expected it came that one day her pain was simply too much, but she held on long enough to whisper her last sentiments to him. Her last words to the world as Simone were quite ominous: "The waiting, it's nearly over. I'll be with him again, soon." Though, he had no proof, something in his French gut allowed Michel to understand that when she said him she hadn't meant Alex._

"Zia," Carter urgently called.

Blinking the hopes of sleep from her eyes his pregnant wife irritably pushed herself up into a sitting position in the bed he was supposed to be occupying with her at this late hour of the night. Instead he had decided to go through Simone's interviews once more, it was becoming another of his obsessions. She loved him, truly, but this...ugh, he should be sleeping. Simone was dead, her reincarnation, not so much, but not so dire that it couldn't wait until morning. "Yes, Carter?" she grouchily returned.

"It says here that one of Simone's previous incarnations went by Aysa Volkom, later Aysa Stone," Carter excitably reported.

Okay that was new, but well it clearly hadn't been important enough to tackle twenty years ago so why was it worthy of keeping her from sleep's lovely embrace? Thus Zia frowned, sharply asking, "And the importance, dear?"

Carter smugly smiled. Zia raised a brow, obviously he thought this could be important. "Desjardins did a little research, which he was kind enough to include in Simone's file. She lived in Seattle during the twenties and died in 1932 as a cold case with no body found or murderer caught. That's not even the interesting part. She was married to a man by the name of Alexander Stone. Who she had a son with, Davis, who had three children. Only one was a boy and that boy had five children, all boys and all dead by ten, except for one who lived to be thirty-four, the same year his only child was born. A son who little more than twenty-two years ago had a son we all knew as Walt."

Zia's mouth fell open. "What?" she exclaimed. "But...Walt?"

Carter nodded understanding her apphrension, "Yeah, he was the great-great-grandson of one of Simone's previous lives. If that isn't a message I don't know what would be, but then again…"

"It could also be coincidence," Zia suggested, voicing her husband's fears and her best hopes. Coincidence meant Walt was still the guy they had known, not tainted by association with Asya's people. Asya Stone, Walter Stone. It was definitely curious, and Zia had to admit she was terribly curious to know if in fact Simone's reincarnation had sought out her relation.

Carter nervously gulped. "Which is why I think we ought to visit Walt's mother."


	14. A Conversation at the Stones'

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Kane Chronicles.**

**Author's Note: Hi. How's life going for all of you? If you haven't guessed I've been busy with Driver's Training, but that's only partially why I haven't updated. The thing is whenever I get a new CD I have the habit of listening to it for hours on end and doing nothing else and I got two new CDs: Nanobots by They Might be Giants, and another of which I will not say because it's a guilty pleasure (and before you start pondering what I find to be a guilty pleasure I'll tell you it isn't One Direction or even Justin Bieber {nothing against those you like them, but I just don't listen to them} but I will tell you that it kills). Anyway I hope you all enjoy this chapter and thanks for reading so far. Please review; I definitely appreciate feedback.**

The dark looming clouds had forewarned them, but Carter had hoped that the rain would pass over the city only to now be disappointed as the first drops of rain splattered against the windshield. He waited for the raindrop tessellation to fully cover the sheet of the glass and was no longer able to see the street ahead until admitting defeat and switching on the wipers. Their frantic work leaving the glass streaky to the point where the visibility was no better than when it was rain droplets that impaired his ability to see the suburban landscape spanning out in front of the rental.

"Turn right at this next street," Zia directed him with disapproval quite prevalent in her voice. He had told her that if she wanted to she could remain in Brooklyn, but there in the passenger seat she sat with a glare that would send any demon or even a number of gods running in the opposite direction.

Had it been seven years already since they had come to Seattle for the funeral? It had been raining on that dreary day too, like even the sky happened to know that the world had lost a good guy before his rightful time. Carter didn't remember that day much, only the tears and sniffles muffled by white Kleenexes. The trainees and Zia, Sadie and him, and Anubis along with Bes and a few of their other godly friends had been there too, all of them sitting in the back pews, out of place among the motley assortment of Walt's relatives and family friends. Carter could faintly remembered that even a well-to-do once business acquaintance of Walt's late father had showed up with his wife and daughter from Chicago. Though the mourners were a diverse grouping the church was still only half full, and that hadn't felt right. He felt that there should've been more people that were able to say they had known their late pal, but the number made sense as Walt hadn't had too many friends back in Seattle, apparently. There had been too many hospital stays and doctors' visits made for treatments tried in vain. The one time they made a go at public education was the day Walt opened his locker and found the djed amulet and their recordings and from then on the rest was history.

"Turn left at this sign and go straight three blocks." Zia's amber eyes flickered from the weathered atlas to her surroundings, warily scanning what could easily be dismissed as just another neighborhood block while the brooding drizzle gained intensity as a howling wind began picking up.

"Nasty weather," Carter awkwardly commented. Conversation had been strained since their arrival, mainly consisting of road directions.

Zia frowned as she solemnly replied, "Strange more like it. Seattle doesn't get too much rain in the summer."

Carter smirked, "Are you trying to say that it's a god's doing?"

Her grave frown scolded him for his joking tone. "No, I'm only saying it's unnatural. Maybe a god, maybe something else."

He nodded. "Okay, let's say that is. So why?"

Thinking it over Zia response came accompanied by an ill at ease shrug."Perhaps they're trying to warn us that it's unwise to be meddling here."

"Meddling...what with the rogues? Seriously, what would the rogues do to us, dear?"

"They abducted Setne when he started nosing around in Chicago. It's seems they're not as shy as we originally thought they were, Carter." Her amber eyes usually fierce were edgy today. It was odd, for fear was not a normal emotion for her; though, it was in her eyes all the same. In the flighty glances that scanned the outside terrain to the uptight posture that couldn't be good for her pregnancy.

Carter placed one hand atop hers as he soothingly murmured, "Zia, it's going to be okay, relax." Unfortunately words had the opposite effect than he had intended them to.

"Relax, Carter," Zia angrily spat. She rolled her eyes in exasperation. "When does anything go okay for the Kanes? As it is what do you know about Asya, Carter?"

"Umm…" he paused. It wasn't that he hadn't tried researching the girl, it was…there was nothing on her, and Zia knew this. "Nothing," Carter despondently murmured.

"Exactly," Zia conceitedly replied. "Nothing. There was no birth certificate, no immigration papers, or anything about a single family member that the girl was related to by blood and it looks like that until her marriage to Walt's great-great-granddad she might as well not have existed as far records are concerned."

Carter fervently nodded. "I know," he gruffly conceded.

"Of course, you do," she snorted. "But doesn't this make you raise any questions. There should be some kind of previous records."

Carter shrugged. "It was a different time," he suggested, in truth in his gut he knew she was right, but maybe...

She only scoffed and narrowed her eyes. "Don't be naïve. Aysa was obviously a rogue."

"What makes you think that, dear?" He'd himself had figured as much, but he wouldn't mind knowing what her thoughts on Aysa were so they would be on the same page when they interviewed Mrs. Stone.

"I think she was important to them."

"Why do you think that?" Carter inquired.

"Because someone went to lengths to make it look like she didn't exist. They wouldn't do that if she wasn't important," Zia concluded.

"Or maybe the records got accidentally destroyed in a fire or some other kind of accident," Carter pointed out. There was still the slightest possibility she could be innocent, unlikely, but possible all the same.

"Perhaps, it's still probably a rogue's doing," she firmly noted.

"Turn right."

He turned right.

They were silent. This was weighing on both of them. The rogue scenario couldn't have come at a more inconvenient time as Zia was pregnant and Sadie was getting married to the god who apparently had been hosted by the great-great grandson of one of Simone's past lives. Simone being the only rogue and lead to what was so valuable that the rogues abducted Setne after he started sneaking about in Chicago looking for, and this was a suspicion of Carter's, Simone's current reincarnation. He could almost hear the chorus of "It's a Small World (After All)" playing in the back of his mind…ugh bad reference, now that song was going to be stuck in his head all day.

Anyway, Walt, who would've thought? Carter found himself wondering exactly how much had it been that their late friend had known about his family history, and led to pondering whether Walt had ever even been their friend or had just been working for the rogues. Though logically a great case could be made proving both hypotheses Carter just couldn't buy either theory especially the latter one. Walt had loved Sadie, so sincerely enough that he agreed to host the god he was the rivaling for Sadie's affections. Thing was that attempt had failed him, and Carter didn't want to believe that they could so hardhearted that the rogues would send Walt to his death. Then again it wouldn't have been the first time they sent one of their own to die, just look at Simone.

"Carter, stop!" Zia exclaimed. He slammed on the brakes bringing the rental car to a tire screeching halt. "We're here," his wife solemnly stated as she unclipped her seatbelt and opened her car door.

To be honest he hadn't thought much or at all really about what Walt's childhood home looked like before, yet he was surprised all the same as he walking to the front, for it was your typical suburban estate. A white and grey house identical to every single other house up and down the street, and sure the house wasn't bad looking or even shabby. In fact it looked like it was a nice place to live with a good length driveway that led up to a garage whose door was just beneath a battered basketball hoop that had obviously fallen into disuse several years back, and branching off from the driveway there was a walk way that passed a row of plump rose bushes and other flowers such as daisies and tulips on the way to a cloudy glass paned front door where just beside the doorframe there was a plastic white doorbell whose centered glowed an orangish yellow.

As his hand lingered over the doorbell Carter nervously remarked, "Perhaps we ought to have called first?"

"Perhaps," Zia uttered as she brushed his hand aside an rung the doorbell. Its cheerful echoing through the house announced their presence to the house's sole occupant. From beyond the clouded glass they were able to watch as a blurred silhouette appeared coming closer and closer until it was opening the door and the face of a middle-aged woman was peering out towards them. The transformation from youth was showing with gray streaks amid her brown curly frizz and the beginning of frowning wrinkles reminding the world of a time when smiles came easier before loss became her norm. She wore lazy around the house clothing, a loose pale blue shirt accompanied by a pair of light gray sweatpants.

Eyeing them with both distain and suspicion the woman coldly remarked, "Why don't you salespeople get moving along? I'm not interested in whatever it is you're selling, so scat. I already have to hear about your ridiculous products when your people harass me with all your calling and now you have the nerve to harass a good woman like myself on her doorstep. Well, I'll be. How do people you sleep at night?"

Zia shook her head, interjecting just as Walt's mom made to slam the door. "Please wait, we're not selling anything," Zia protested with enough authority in her voice that Walt's mother stopped and gave the pair another wary look over.

"So then why are you on my doorstep?" she brazenly inquired.

Straightening his back Carter held out a hard for her to shake and after a moment's internal debate she hesitantly took it. "I'm Carter and this is my wife Zia. We're from Brooklyn House. We…"

Tears were budding at the corner of her eyes as she hushed him. "Don't, no need to continue darlings, come in. Would you like something to drink? I have water, orange juice, Sprite, milk, and I can make coffee if you like," Walt's mother warmly offered.

Stepping inside Zia asked, "Do you have tea?"

Walt's mother nodded as she inquired, "Lipton good?"

"Perfect." Zia carefully examined the room. The space was quite empty. The foyer's only furnishings consisted of a pair of hot pink crocs, an umbrella splattered with images of ducks, and the welcome mat they were standing on. Straight ahead she could make out the corner of a refrigerator in what could only be the kitchen. They removed their shoes placing them beside the pair of crocs they followed their hostess straight past a stainless steel fridge and into the cozy kitchen where a casual dining table and matching chairs were placed.

"We can sit in here or go into the living room, whatever you find more comfortable," Walt's mother said filling a mug up with water from the sink faucet. Once filled close to the top turning the faucet off she straddled over to the microwave on the green-tiled counter. Punching in 3:30 before turning back to her guests who had already taken seats at the kitchen table. "Can I get you anything, son?"

Carter shook his head," I'm good, thank you."

She nodded. "Alright then but if you change your mind just tell me and I'll get you something."

The microwave beeped. Grabbing the mug she dropped a tea packet into the mug, watching as swirls and loops twirled under the water's surface as it dyed the clearness a translucent amber. "You need sugar or milk, dear?"

Zia shook her head. "No thank you, I like it unsweetened."

"As you wish," Walt's mother stated placing the mug down in front of Zia. Taking a seat at the table herself she studied her guests faces as she frankly asked, "So why did you come all this way to talk to little old me? This about Walt?"

Carter opened his mouth but didn't know exactly how to say what he wanted to say. "Well," he began, "yes and no. It involves Walt somewhat to the point we thought you might be able to help us."

"How much do you know about Walt's father's family?" Zia brashly asked.

Walt's mother uneasily shrugged her shoulders. "Enough, I guess. Why?" Her voice was wavering which meant that enough was an understatement.

"Because we were wondering if you could tell us anything about Asya Volkom. She was…"

"Walt's great-great-grandmother," Walt's mother finished her voice's waver gaining intensity. "Yeah, I know of her. Go south a few towns and those folk still talk her and her adoptive father. They were strange folk and towns don't forget strange folk."

Carter nodded, "I see, but why were they strange?"

"That's an easy question to ask, boy, but not to answer. There's many reasons just for that one question. It could be that Asya never once left that home after she came here, but it could also be that that the man, Vadim, was believed to a werewolf of all things. Whatever it was the whole town avoided them, well all except Alex. The townsfolk knew better while Alex, he fell under the spell of Asya's charm and quickly fell in love with her.

"And Asya loved him," Carter guessed.

Walt's mother shook her head, "No, I don't believe she did. She married him yes, but loved him? Perhaps like a brother or dear friend, but passionately in the romantic sense? No, in fact it's believed that there was another from her past who held her heart."

"Do you know who?" Carter asked.

Walt's mom shook her head, "Sorry, no Asya never named him, or if she did no one bothered to remember the name. She drew him, though, but Alex burned those drawings after she died."

"Why did she marry Alex then, if she wasn't in love with him?" Zia pondered aloud. "No offense, but Alex was the help."

"Exactly," Walt's mother murmured, "the townspeople asked the same question. Honestly no one knew what Asya was thinking except Asya, but I believe the reason was that he was loyal to her and that was something she felt need of and so married him to keep him close. Now the townspeople also labeled Vadim and her as trouble, tangled in business they shouldn't be dealing in, so some say Alex was useful to her in that business, though, that can't to be right. You see Alex was a good man, and he wouldn't of hurt anyone. He couldn't have, for that's just the type of person he was."

"But Asya?" Zia ventured.

A solemn smile foreshadowed her response. "Asya was a fragile thing, but I don't know. She was…unstable."

Zia glanced towards Carter before asking, "So did Walt ever know anything about Asya?"

Walt's mom shook her head. "No, but Asya knew about Walt," she quietly replied.

Carter and Zia's eyes widened. "But how?" Carter stuttered.

Shaking her head the mother simply stated, "I have no idea. I just know she left something behind for him in her will."

"What was it?" Zia asked.

She smiled. "Wait here, I'll go get it."

When she returned she was holding a wooden box the size of jewelry box, but it lacked the elegant designs to be found on most. It was completely plain, void of all design. "Here," Walt's mother said putting it down in front of the couple.

Tentatively Zia ran a hand over the lid's clasp. "May I?"

The mother nodded consent.

Pushing the lid open it fell back to reveal just two simple items: a note and a small key. Zia reached in and cautiously plucked the yellowed piece of paper out and once unfolded there was only one short line of the girl's smooth handwritten cursive scrawl in scarlet red ink.

'Where day meets night what was stolen but forgotten by those who shall seek it in time hides.'

Zia looked up at Walt's mother studying her the woman's reaction. "Was Walt ever given this?" the magician urgently inquired.

Shaking her head Walt's mother seemed completely oblivious to the box's contents as she blankly replied, "No, like I told you he wasn't aware of anything to do with Asya."

Her amber eyes narrowed. "Why?"

A shrug. "I-I didn't want to, okay. Asya frightened me. I heard the stories about her growing up and was taught anything involving that family was bad news. Even the realtors want nothing to do with that property, well except Lillian Davis. She's still at it even though everyone in the area avoids that place like the plague. "

Zia eyes weren't watching hers Mrs. Stone anymore instead they were beady and hard as she stared at the note in her hand while her thoughts churned. "The house is still there?"

"Of course, they weren't about to demolish a historic mansion, and anyway it still belongs to us."

"It does?" Carter started.

"Would you let us see it?" Zia inquired.

"Uh…are you sure?" This prospect didn't seem to excite Ms. Stone as much as give her reason to fret.

The former host of Ra nodded. "Yes, we're sure."

"We are?" Carter murmured.

Walt's mother smiled, "Very well then, I'll go call Lillian then to see if she could give you a tour."

Zia smiled. "Lovely."

When Mrs. Stone departed the kitchen Carter to his wife demanded, "Exactly what are you thinking?"

Zia calmly replied, "We're going to visit Asya's home."

Not comprehending Carter blankly shook his head, "But why?"

She handed him the note and instantly Carter understood. "She said Asya never left home, therefore whatever she left behind for Walt is probably still on that property."

Zia smugly nodded.

Meanwhile in another room on the second floor Mrs. Stone was paying a call to the realtor, Lillian Davis.

"Hello, Mrs. Davis speaking. How might I-" a perky upbeat eagerly greeted.

"It's me. They want to see the property," Walt's mother urgently whispered.

Ms. Stone could almost feel Davis's smile on the opposite side of the line. "Excellent, Aka will be pleased."

"Good...and the bills."

"Aka has already taken care of them."

"And-"

"Don't speak of him, not while they're there. Please don't worry, love, we take care of our family, remember?" Lillian purred.

Mrs. Stone uneasily smiled. Family, of course, they take care of the family.


	15. The Princess

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Kane Chronicles.**

**Author's Note: This was not the chapter I had plans of posting but the one was I was planning on didn't quite fit here right, so I wrote this one instead. I hope you enjoy it because I stayed up past midnight writing it and as always please review. I haven't got any reviews on the two past chapters so pretty please review on this one. If you have any opinions, suggestions, or comments concerning the story I'd be glad to hear them. I also enjoy it when you include your predictions on what will happen next, so if you want to please speak up. Also I've been wondering about the length of my chapters: Too long, not long enough, just right, or would you prefer them to be broken up a tad bit more.**

Anubis tucked a lock of wispy gold behind her delicate ear and allowed his lips to morph to hers in their continued embrace. The night was late and they were situated on the bed in her room. Outside the room the mansion was silent as the trainees had gone to bed at the eleven o'clock curfew (after their victory against Apophis Carter had figured that since they were no longer fighting a snake that desired to swallow the sun and end the world he ought to ensure that everyone was getting a good night's sleep). Usually Anubis wouldn't had stayed this late out of respect for Carter, but since Carter was off in Seattle he had been persuaded to stay longer than usual.

Her arms that were wrapped around his neck coyly wandered down to the hem of his shirt and impishly attempted to remove it's fabric from his chest before his fingers nimbly intertwined themselves amongst hers. "No, Sadie. I don't think that's a good idea," he gently murmured.

She pushed him off her and playfully glared at him. "Why not?" she puckishly demanded.

Anubis shrugged hopelessly. "Because…" he wracked his mind for a good reply, "I think it would be more special if we waited for our wedding night."

Her eyebrows raised in disbelief. "No, you're scared of what the other gods would think if you knocked me up before we were married." She bowed her head closer to his until her lips were at a teasing distance before solemnly muttering. "But I don't care what they say. I love you and I'm ready so…"

He sighed. "Sadie, I don't think we should provoke them. They've agreed to let me court you but only because I plan to make you one of them, but as it is currently you're still a mortal and this…us…is still very much taboo, my love. I just don't wish to offend them. Can you understand that?"

Sadie despondently sighed. "I guess," she replied. Her gaze rested on him, but her interest in their previous activity had waned so she found herself asking him, "Do you just want to watch TV then?"

Anubis smiled. "That sounds nice."

Sadie smirked. "Okay, just let me get dressed for bed," she stated, taking off her shirt. Though part of him was in shock at her brash action he instinctly adverted his eyes so she could dress in privacy. He heard her snickers. "You know Death Boy, I'm going to be your wife," she teased.

Anubis nodded his head, "I know. It's just I want to give you your privacy."

Her fingers caressed his cheek before turning his face so he was staring at her. As well as the shirt she had also stripped herself of her jeans and now stood in front of him in nothing but her underwear. She bent down and tenderly pecked his lips. "So…" she began, hoping that perhaps he'd changed his mind and could be lured into ignoring those pesky rules, but Anubis didn't budge.

"Could you at least put a shirt on?" he calmly asked.

A hint of annoyance flickered behind her eyes as she stated, "I could, but I don't feel like it."

"Please."

"Is it really that important?" she whined.

"No," he softly conceded.

She took her hand from his cheek and sat down beside him on the bed. Her eyes bore into his earnestly searching for an explanation. "Don't you want me?" Saying that she sounded so fragile and small that he felt awful for making her feel that way.

Taking her hand to reassure her or was it himself that he was reassuring, or had one and another become the same? Was fooling her the same as fooling himself? He couldn't do this anymore, to himself, and especially to her. Tonight, the night she had decided she wanted to make love to him he was going to confess. He had to, for this was wrong. Her and him, here, when it was he had a daughter with her close friend.

Her hand was going white as the blood flow was caught off in his tight grasp. Apparently his grip was tighter than he had realized. Anubis took a deep gulp and spoke. "Of course, I want you. I love you for now and for all of eternity which is why I want to wait for when we're wedded and you're my immortal wife." These words came slick and easy off his tongue but weren't the words he had meant to say. What was going on? Had he been lying so long that the words just rolled off his tongue without his thinking about it? These lies, this wasn't him. He weighed the freaking Scales of Judgment, he condemned wrongdoers by throwing their hearts to Ammit, and now he was no better than any of those scumbags. Like them he was a liar and a cheat. He wanted to tell her but he just couldn't; instead, he was kissing her neck and whispering hollow compliments in her ear. You love her, half his mind said while the other half was screaming: NO, YOU LOVE MARISOL. NO SADIE. Marisol. SADIE. SADIE. SAdie…

"_Excuse, boy, but could you watch my little girl? I have some business to discuss with an acquaintance just over there, and it's not the kind of talk that little girls ought to be hearing," a thickly Russian accented voice gently inquired, though how the husky voice was capable of gentle had Anubis at a loss. Upon realizing it was he who was being spoken to Anubis glanced up at the clean cut figure of a businessman, maybe a lawyer. Whatever work he was in it paid well if the nice Italian suit and loafers were anything to show by it, not to mention he was carrying a hefty briefcase that had that glossy spanking new look to it._

_Anubis didn't even have a chance to say no as the man rushed off giving the funerary god a gruff soft-spoken thanks as soon as Anubis looked up, leaving the god with questions of the child's upbringing, after all it isn't too smart to leave your daughter with a stranger in a graveyard. As if that wasn't enough, he was doing business at a funeral. Oh how the vastness of human greed still astonished him in what little respect it had for the dead, from the robbing of graves to the children of the decreased quarreling over the deceased's earthly possessions, what disgusting and vulgar people these mortals could be. Nevertheless here he was left with this little girl in her black cape-collared dress tied which in at the waist by a thick satin sash that was tied in a big bow at the back with caramel blond braids pinned to the back of her head in an elaborate hairstyle while a fist clenched by it's leg a blond-haired doll. She looked six maybe seven years at most. The kid was smiling at him so he smiled back at her. Something in her toothy smile just gave him a warm fuzzy feeling in his chest. _

"_So that doll got a name?" he urbanely inquired._

_The little girl glanced down at the porcelain plaything before looking back up at him and bluntly answering, "Of course, she does, but I don't call her by it," as if it was an obvious fact._

"_I see…so what do you call her then?" he continued._

_The child grinned but this smile didn't give off that warm fuzzy feeling, no it gave instead it left him with a feeling of foreboding. "Princess. I call her Princess."_

_Princess, an answer that many young girls would've given, but this one had spoken it with a loathing sneer. She had no love for Princess, and it was such a fine toy for it to be loathed so. A custom job he was guessing by how realistic and detailed it was. "Would you tell me Princess's actual name?" _

_The girl shook her head, smirking ever so._

_Anubis glanced side to side in a dramatic fashion before he bent down towards the girl and suggested that a deal be struck. "How about this, you tell me the name of Princess here, and I'll tell you my own?"_

"_Do you really want to know?" the girl asked, a dare in her eyes and voice._

_Anubis nodded._

"_Okay, then. Bend down." He didn't go down far enough as she irritably ordered, "Lower, I'm not that tall, yet. I'm only five and three quarters years old."_

_He was bent over like an old man and the girl was on tiptoes as she whispered through cupped hands into his ear a name. "Sadie."_

_Anubis smiled as he straightened himself back up. When he looked back down at the girl he found she was staring at him expectantly like the name should've resonated with him somehow. "What?" he snarled in mock annoyance._

_She smiled, it was warm and fuzzy again, but knowing, teasing. Seeing ahead into a future even he didn't dare to predict. "You'll see soon. Just you wait," she chuckled._

"_Anastasiya," the girl's father called, his business concluded. "Best we be leaving, darling."_

"_Have a good life, kid," Anubis cordially remarked._

_Anastasiya glanced over to her beckoning father before looking one last time at him and saying her parting words. "Farewell until we meet again, Anubis." That said off she skipped to her father taking the hand he offered. As Anubis watched the girl and her father disappear down the street it occurred to him that he had never told her his name._

With wide eyes he sat petrified while Sadie sat warily watching. Leaning away a bit she looked him over and asked in genuine concern, "What's wrong, Death Boy?"

And like an idiot he answered, "You're her princess, Sadie." It wasn't a wonder Sadie glanced around the room to make sure she wasn't being pranked and was looking at him like he had lost his marbles. If anyone, excluding that little girl because well she was a little girl and imaginations are crazy at that age, had given him that response to be honest he likewise would've thought they were cuckoo. "We need to talk," Anubis concluded.

Sadie shook her head, putting that last crazy statement far in the recesses of her mind. "No need, if you want to wait, we can. I love you."

"I love you, too." Just as his lips pressed against her forehead the phone in Carter's study went off. "You should get that," Anubis benignly suggested.

Sadie shrugged, "Nah, it's probably some fifth grader calling to ask if our refrigerator is running."

Anubis frowned and tilted his head like he does when puzzled. "Why would anyone call asking that?" he pondered, only to be received by Sadie's chuckles. "It's an honest question," he protested but to no avail.

"Bless you, Annie."

"Don't call me that," he snarled.

"Fine, Jackal Boy," she retorted. There was nothing Anubis could do but shake his head and smile as some things would just never change.

As Anubis made to speak a knock sounded on her bedroom door and Sadie got up to open it. "Wait, Sadie, don't you think you shou…" too late she had already opened the door and startled Felix in his penguin PJs. He handed her the phone before hastily retreating back down the hall to his own room.

Chuckling to herself Sadie closed the door behind her and raised the phone to her ear. "Hello, ahh…you currently have the honor of addressing your magnificent sister, Sadie. What's that? You're staying an extra day to tour some old manor, uh-huh and I'm in charge. Lovely, tell Zia I said hi. Oh, don't worry Carter. Enjoy yourself and take as much time as you need out there be it a week, a month, even a year. I'm perfectly capable of keeping Brooklyn House running, see you. Night. Bye Carter," Sadie pressed the end button and looked up at Anubis. "Maybe you're right; I should have put a shirt on." Placing the phone on the top of the dresser she crossed back over to him and sat back down. "Now where were we?" she asked, making to pull him back to her but Anubis stood up.

"I think I ought to go," he began.

"But…" Sadie started.

"No, no, no it's not you, babe—"

"Babe? Where'd you pick that up? The only person I know who uses babe is Marisol," Sadie reflected.

Anubis's blood froze. He had to get out of here before more questions came up. "I'm so tired and it's a packed schedule tomorrow at the Hall of Judgment. So I really should get some sleep."

"You could sleep in my bed," Sadie offered.

He shook his head. "No, you see it's takes a couple days for me to adjust to a mattress and…and like I said I need sleep, badly."

Sadie shrugged. "Fine, night."

Kissing her lightly on the lips he bid her good evening and left for the sanctuary of his own room in the Land of the Dead. Little did he know who was waiting for him there, and it seemed sleep would have to continue waiting because as he turned the knob and stepped into the foyer of his chambers he was greeted by a smug arrogant voice calling to him from the living room. "I believe a congrats is in order, though I can't imagine why you would want to marry that Kane girl," it sneered.

Throwing his jacket onto the coat rack Anubis ambled into the living room and sure enough there was his father lounging on the black Victorian loveseat in that signature red suit. "What do you want, pops?" Anubis spat.

"Tsk…tsk…didn't Isis teach you any manners, son. It seems you take after your mother, she had no respect for me either…" Set japed.

Clenching his fists Anubis growled, "Don't talk about her like that."

"Why not? It's not like she was much of a mother to you."

"Yeah…like you were a father," Anubis loathsomely muttered.

"Well at least I watch out for you. Who else has been protecting that girlfriend and kid of yours these past six years," Set defensively barked.

Anubis became significantly quieter. "What are you talking about?" he asked in dread, already knowing his father's response.

"You know, Marisol and your lovely Roselle. If I dare say that daughter of yours has my spunk, don't you think?" he proudly stated.

"Does anyone else know?"

Set puffed his chest out in mock horror. "Really boy, you'd think I'd sell my own son out to be massacred by the Kanes and their godly goonies. Of course not. It's a secret between just you and me."

Anubis narrowed his eyes and shook his head. "What's in it for you?"

Set stared at him mournfully. "Can't you entertain the notion that I'm trying to help you? You're my boy. We're blood."

"Then where were you all these years?" Anubis desperately asked. "Where?"

Set shook his head. "It's not that easy, son. You're well aware of how Osiris and Isis can be…"

"It's doesn't matter about them. This about you and where you should've been," Anubis growled.

"Boy…"

"GET OUT!"

Set hung his head and pleaded, "Please kid, I want to make amends between us. Can we do that?"

Anubis bit his lip and muttered, "I said get out."

His father nodded and got off the couch. "Fine, if that's the way you want it." At the door Set turned around and looked at his son before asking, "Can I say one more thing, Anubis?"

Anubis rolled his eyes. "You're going to say it whether I like it or not so go ahead."

"I had hoped you would choose Marisol."

Anubis stared at him. It made sick to hear her name come his father's mouth, it was like he defiled her pure beauty with the very deceitfulness of his essence. "Why ever, father, did you desire that?"

Set smiled, "She's nice and you deserve someone nice. There's still time to change your mind, don't just marry Sadie because you feel like it's your duty. Remember when you get married it's going to be for eternity so put the ring on the right finger, kid." Then just to remind Anubis what an…ugh, you know…he was he winked before joking, "Also would've made family get-togethers all that more fun."

"Have sweet dreams, son," his father called as the door shut behind him. Anubis's dreams that night were anything but sweet, for he dreamt of that little girl he had talked to that day in the French Quarter, and when he woke, her farewell still echoed in his mind.

"_Farewell until we meet again, Anubis. Until we meet again, Anubis. We meet again, Anubis. Meet again, Anubis. Again, Anubis."_


	16. A Tour of the Volf Manor

**Author's Note: Hey how are all you doing? I hope you've been well. Sorry if I've been longer than usual. It's because I went on a vacation/dad's business trip (got to love it when your dad's work pays for the whole thing) and even though I had access to a computer and wi-fi I was so tired I had to go straight to bed when we got back to the hotel every night so I got little done on this while on the trip, plus I've had a little writer's block. Anyway I hope you enjoy the chapter, and please review if you care to because I'm always glad to hear your opinions.**

Carter had a suspicion that the word 'yellow' was in some way part of Ms. Davis's secret name, for it summed her up perfectly. To start with her clothes, the uniform crisp jacket (worn over a white blouse) and ruffled floral skirt, were both pale, nonetheless eccentric, shades of yellow. Then the earlobes shyly hiding behind the real estate agent's blonde bob were weighed down by dangling golden sunflowers while a heliodor pendant hung loosely around her bony neck. The color also suited her personality with her excitable and gleeful way of speaking in which she spewed out words at a rate that rivaled even Sadie when you got her going, yet Ms. Davis's words couldn't help but dissolve from memory as soon as spoken. It wasn't that she was boring, but the stuff she spoke of was of little use and, okay, she was a bit boring. However, Ms. Davis was a nice lady, but to the point you wondering how many times she had been dropped on her head as a baby.

"So what brought your attention to the property?" Ms. Davis asked with a wide smile that seemed impossibly stretched. Earlier when she had picked them up at their motel she had asked them to call her Lillian. For some reason shivers went down his back whenever she smiled at him; though, he couldn't figure out why. Carter felt it was a bit unlikely that Ms. Davis, excuse me, Lillian was a rogue as he sat in the backseat next to Zia watching Lillian drive them in her yellow bug with the daisy-patterned seat covers. She just didn't strike him as the secret killer on the side type.

"We were intrigued by the history of the manor," Carter smoothly answered, smiling and holding his wife's hand.

Lillian bobbed her head, turning the wheel ever so that with a sudden bump they left the main road and started down a dirt stretch. Well, actually more mud than dirt as the rain was still pouring and the thunder and lightning still at their raucous dancing and booming above the earth. "Sorry," Lillian squealed, "I've always hated that bump. Talked to the county once to see if they could smooth it out, but you know how it goes. Things pile up and complaints are so soonly forgotten. But where were we now? Ah yes, the history. Anastasiya and Vadim were interesting, no? But how did you hear of them? Sarah informed me that you're from Brooklyn, and to the best of my belief the house's occupants aren't quite that well-known."

"Walt was a friend of ours," Zia reservedly supplied.

"Oh," the real estate agent uncomfortably gasped. "Well, I'm so very sorry, he was so..." Lillian was tearing up, "he was such good a young man and it was horrible how that boy died. He was...so young and so full of potential." She loudly sniffled before sadly sighing, "You know what they say it's always the good ones who die young. Now where did I put those tissues?" she asked herself, one hand blunderingly shuffling through the contents of the driver's door pocket. Finally finding one she blew into it, the sound rivaling a trumpet's toot.

It was at least ten minutes going down that bumpy puddle ridden dirt road until they pulled up to a gate with missing, broken, or just plain rusted paint-chipped black metal bars. In its prime it might've been foreboding, but now it was just pathetic, yet still only the beginning of the ruin, for that was the manor basically had come to be. Though it stood, the years had not been all that kind to it. As Lillian got out of her car she handed them an umbrella and regretfully informed them they would have to walk up the drive from the main gate. After getting out of the yellow bug Carter quickly came to the conclusion that Ms. Davis hadn't decided on her parking place so she could better show off the landscape after he nearly tripped over a crumbling brick, coming to the understanding that driving the car down this driveway would've been a nightmare. The main problem was the driveway was brick, and no one had obviously thought to fix the driveway up since, well, the bricks had been first laid down. Now if the bricks weren't missing they were crumbling, and then there were also these crusty brownish prints in the shape of feet in what appeared to be a line heading toward the manor that looked like a southern plantation had been plucked right out the pre-Civil War era. It was built of yellow-brown brick and choked by vines. The windows were either broken or cracked, and some on the uppermost floors had been completely boarded up. Taking in the shamble Carter couldn't help but lean over and mutter to Zia, "Shouldn't this place be condemned?"

Lillian had quite good hearing as Carter learned when only a moment later the real estate agent loudly scoffed, "It's safe enough, the inspector came through just a month ago." Swallowing down her annoyance Lillian began her practiced monologue in a cool collected professional manner. "The manor was built in 1911 by a Jedrek Jenkins, who had earned his fortune in New Orleans, but was unable to ever live in the manor due to fatal injuries received in World War I during 1918. The rights to his fortune were transferred over to his friend Vadim Volf until his son, a boy named Leonid, came to be an adequate age to manage the business left behind by his father."

"What business were they in?" Zia politely inquired.

Lilian paused and a hesitant frown revealed the how little she cared for giving an answer to Zia's question before replacing her reluctance with a false smile and slick response."Mr. Jenkins was a private man and little is known of him. Now where was I? Ah yes, Leonid. Leonid died in the late months of 1918 when Spanish flu went through New Orleans, and thus the fortune was left in its entirety to Vadim Volf. In 1919 he and his adopted daughter took up residence in this house."

"Would you know anything about Asya's life before she came here?" Zia inquired.

Lillian pursed her lips as she shook her head annoyed. "Nothing. A closed adoption, it's presumed she was the daughter of immigrants."

"Nationality?" Carter implored.

"Thought to be Russian."

Zia bent her head close to Carter's and whispered, "We should contact Leonid to see if he can find anything out." Carter nodded.

"To the left and right you can see what remains of the gardens. It's overgrown now as you can see but many of the flowers that Anastasiya cherished still grow here, such as the abundant rose bushes," Lillian rushed eager to be out of the downpour. Eyeing the green foliage Carter noted that the rose bushes looked to be the most prevalent of anything in the garden. Following behind his wife, Lillian led them up a front walk that was under siege by an army of dandelions and their weed allies to the manor's front double doors. Doors that hung crooked, and therefore were never truly closed standing at the top of five splintered wooden steps that looked like someone had taken a sledgehammer to them.

Ironically as Lillian reasurredly smiled and assured them, "They're perfectly safe," her marigold heel sunk through the first step, and a hearty curse bounded out from the real estate agent's mouth before she was able to catch herself. Nonetheless the party managed to make it up the steps and through the door without further mishaps.

Now judging by the exterior Carter hadn't expected much from the manor's inside, so when stepping in he found himself pleasantly surprised. The place wasn't bad at all. In fact it was quite nice. Sure there were cobwebs and dust, but Carter could forgive the house for a lack of a good cleaning. The place had been abandoned for a number of years. "Much of manor has been left untouched, but there was a period in the 1930s when the Stones were having financial issues much like the rest of the country so to bring in a form of revenue the family auctioned off several heirlooms, which included three priceless paintings, the china, and even one of the custom grandfather clocks built exclusively for the manor. You'll see its twin later when we make to the parlor."

Carter nodded, as Zia was busy scanning the room for a possible location for Asya's reference in her note. Where day and night meet. Well, nothing in the foyer fitted the description. On the floor a threadbare oriental rug hid the hardwood floor while the coatrack sinisterly held it arms out to receive them, and the wallpaper was a black paisley design. The whole room just seemed to give off a vibe of bitterness and anger like it was in a state of permanent mourning.

Ushered out of foyer they were led through a library filled with bookshelves but lacking the books to fill them, a very outdated kitchen with piles of mice excrement surrounding the oven, and several other luxurious rooms including the bath, the dining room, and Vadim's bedroom. Stepping into Asya's room Carter was taken aback by the décor or to be more accurate the lack of it. Compared to the rest of the house it was strikingly plain with only a few pieces of furniture, which was a dresser, a bed (not a big bed either just a full-size), and a basic vanity. There was one window and its black curtains prevented the sun from brightening up the drabness of the room. Placed on the floor by the bed dressed with white sheets and a gray blanket there were three paintings.

"Were these Asya's work?" Zia gently asked. If they were, then Walt's mother's comment that Asya had been unstable seemed to be revealing itself as only more and more true.

Lillian disinterestedly nodded. "The only ones Alex didn't burn."

Made of tentative careful strokes and salient hues the images presented were simply haunting. Zia could almost feel the delirium of raging anger mixed with the consuming despair that had tormented Asya in the days she had been living as Asya, for who knew what the current reincarnation's state of mind was. Whoever Asya truly had been in that life, or even in this current reincarnation, she knew something. A secret that had been buried for a reason, and though Zia desired to know what it was that tore at the girl's mind she also felt a sense that perhaps she was meddling in something that was best left unchallenged. However, the time of peace was at an end. By abducting Setne the rogues had made their intent clear. Their time of lying low was at an end and...and well that was the issue neither she nor Carter could come up with an idea for what had caused their sudden change in attitude or what exactly they had in mind of doing. For the past few millennia, though, relations between Egypt and the rogues were tense there had been no true challenge raised until now. Looking at the paintings Zia vaguely sensed that the reason they're had been seeking for why the rogues disliked Egypt so was explained by these three images. It seemed Asya enjoyed telling them everything and nothing at the same time for Zia couldn't connect the three though she was sure they fit. Zia was squatting down in front of them, her gaze stuck on one in particular. On what looked to be an Egyptian temple at dusk. She could see sphinxes, columns, and several large statues of the gods. "So did she have any connection to Egypt?" Zia asked Lillian.

Lillian only stared at them in perplexment. "I'm afraid not. They weren't very interested in the past."

"Then why did she paint this?" Carter prodded. After all it's unlikely you would paint an ancient temple not having care, no matter how small that said amount of care was.

Lillian was smiling, but just under the surface Carter could tell she wanted to claw their faces off. The smile that sent shivers down his back. It was not human. He was wrong. Wrong in his previous assessment of Ms. Davis. wasn't nice, and the secret killer on the side type wasn't as far off as he had first thought.

"You're a rogue aren't you?" Carter inquired.

Lillian chuckled, "Of course, my young pharaoh."

Zia reached for her staff from the Duat but it wouldn't come. "Carter," she called. Likewise he had tried to pull his khopesh but it didn't come either. He looked at Lillian, but she hadn't moved. Her inhuman gaze watched them, finding amusement in their fussing over her.

Suspiciously he eyed the real estate agent warily. "Why aren't you attacking us?" he beseeched.

Lillian manically grinned. "The lady says you're not to be harmed, and that I'm to show the house."

"Why?"

"It amuses her."

Carter looked down at the pictures that sat on the floor. One was of a village among black pastures on fire, wait no, it was actually the whole sky that was on fire and those weren't pastures. He tasted vomit at the back of his throat. The thing he had taken to be pastures were in fact fields of ash and the village, not a village. A graveyard of bones. Not caring to dwell on whatever it was Asya had painted he moved on to the other painting, a portrait of a young girl. Tan-skinned, brown-eyed, freckled cheeks and with a familiar look about her.

"The girl looks a bit like Roselle," Zia remarked.

"Who?" Carter asked.

"Marisol's daughter. The two look like they could be sisters." Marisol's daughter, of course, now he remembered. Yes, that was it. The girl resembled Roselle a great deal, enough that if he hadn't known better like Zia suggested the two could be siblings, cousins, or blood relations of some sort.

Zia fiercely looked up at Lillian asking, "Who was this girl?"

"Lucia." The response was cold. Bitter. It would bring me great joy to flay you alive dislike.

"And…"

"And what?" Lillian asked in mock ignorance.

"Who was she? Her parents, her life, where she was from, those kind of things," Carter listed.

"She died. That's the most important thing she ever did," the rogue growled.

Zia stared at her in horror. "How can you speak so heartlessly? She was a child."

Nodding Lillian stiffly continued, that forced smile had disappeared, she was done with her saccharine façade. What now she spoke to Carter was nothing but harsh honesty. "I'm quite aware, but I'm only speaking the truth. Dying was the only thing she ever did worth mentioning."

"And why is that?" Zia frowned.

"Her death was the last insult my people tolerated from yours." Carter's squeezed his eyes shut and his stomach churned. His ancestors had killed that girl,and he didn't need to see the deep-rooted hatred in Lillian's eye to he know it was true in his gut. It was easy to give into the glory that Egypt so proudly displayed but empires hurt people especially the innocent in their pursuits for greatness.

"Why did they do it?" he murmured. What could a little girl possibly have done to deserve death? She was a child, the picture of innocence.

"Your people weren't content with taking our home from us. Apparently, we needed to suffer more, so you killed the lady's daughter."

Zia's eyes bore into those of the girl in the portrait. "How old was she?" she solemnly asked.

"Four and half in the portrait. Six when she died."

Zia turned to Carter and stiffly stated. "We should move on."

As they exited Carter placed a hand on Lillian's shoulder. "Egypt was yours before it was ours then?"

"Yes, but it wasn't the homeland you took, young one."

"Was your homeland beautiful?" Carter continued. Glancing over at the portrait of ash and bone she nostalgically nodded. He bowed his head in shame. "I'm sorry," he apologizing for the crimes of his ancestors.

"I know," Lillian placidly replied, "and we forgave you many years ago. It not like our kind to judge a people upon the heinous act of one."

"Then may we be friends?" Carter hopefully inquired.

It seemed they had no desire for violence or strife so he thought that perhaps a peace could be reached until Lillian heartily laughed. "My lady would love for that to be, but I'm afraid the lady's price won't be too your liking."

Carter frowned asking, "Why not?"

"You'll see," was all she said in response, leading them downstairs to the parlor.

Of all the rooms in the manor it was this one that impressed him most. Under the cathedral ceiling ticking and tocking a great grandfather welcomed them into the parlor where Victorian couches lazily lounged in front of a tall fireplace whose a mantle was lined with statues of fearsome beasts while a brilliant mural of a forested realm wrapped around the room. Most captivating of all though was the portrait that hung over the mantle. Against a gray backdrop a middle aged man glumly sat in plum armchair as a young girl stood rigidly straight beside him. Logically this was Vadim. Well then, Vadim had a straight nose and a somber frown, and those were the least interesting characteristics of his appearance. Tattoos covered all of what little revealed skin there was and one tattoo, it was of some sort of red canine, was conveniently hidden beneath a scraggly beard. The man also didn't dress as his status insisted. Instead the gray-black suit he wore was shabby in its patched up and wrinkled state. Not to mention, his level of hygiene left much to be desired with dirt-covered skin and greasy black hair that hung far past his shoulders. Now the girl beside him , she shared the same grim expression, but that's where similiarities ended. Carter found himself speechless looking at the girl in twenty's style violet dress and stiff caramel curls, hardly believing what he was seeing to be true. The girl, Asya he presumed, she…he was looking at Sadie. Well, almost. She didn't have Sadie's eyes. Yes, both girls had blue eyes, but Asya's were sterner and without the mischievous glimmer Sadie's had, not to mention were just a shade lighter. He had seen these eyes before, but the when evaded him before it didn't.

Walt's funeral. The business man from Chicago had his wife and daughter with him, and the daughter she had been sitting next to Walt's mom the whole service. Comforting Ms. Stone while also staring at the back pews at them, at him. Now he hadn't gotten a good look at her, she avoided him like the plague after the service's conclusion. He couldn't remember the color of her hair (Auburn? Or was she a brunette?) or even her age (It was around Sadie's, though.) but the one thing he could remember for certain was the color of her eyes. Staring at him unblinkingly they had burned themselves into his memory. They were both knowing and ageless. First they had looked at him, but then changed their focus to his sister, who was leaning on Anubis. The girl's eyes narrowed loathing the blood that pumped through him and his sister, and hating the name of his father's ancestors, Kane. Carter never heard what name she was called. A name would've been nice, but now at least he knew who the reincarnation was. She's the daughter of a Chicago businessman, the girl at Walt's funeral, that was little to go on.

"Beautiful isn't it. It's one of a pair. The other had been in the foyer, but was sold off to a Frenchman at the auction," Lillian commented noting Zia's interest in the clock.

'Where day meets night what was stolen but forgotten by those who shall seek it in time hides.'

A clock, in time. No…Asya would've had been that obvious would she? Simone had came to them, though. It was possible, but it felt too easy. Unless, oh that made sense. This was her game and they were the pieces. They had been practically led here to where day meets night… the clock face was round and rotating, but was broken so it no longer rotating just stuck at the three and the nine. One half was golden with puffy illuminated clouds in shades of dusky yellow, orange, purple, and pink surrounding a centered sun split in half so the other side was the moon surrounding by a sprinkling of other twinkling stars set again the blackness of night. Two hands however had continued keeping time but the circle that held them together also seemed to have a…keyhole. Zia too had seen this, but as Lillian was beside her she was reluncatant to test her theory. Lillian moved on though, stepping out of the room. Carter got the hint. This what the rogues wanted and he hated they're predicament, but he had already realized they were only going to learn what they were allowed to learn so...

"Zia, try it."

Zia nodded, taking the key left to Walt from her jacket's pocket. She fit it into the keyhole and like they had thought it fit perfectly. Turning the key, there was metallic click and the clock face swung open with a sharp squeal from the tired hinges to reveal a hidden compartment. Reaching into the blackness where the 0ears and parts should've been she pulled out a doll. A porcelain doll with carmel blonde hair and blue eyes, with streaks of color in carmel blonde hair. Frowning Zia pulled out yet another note. Which she read aloud.

"Dear Carter, I know that you will find this on Thursday, August 15, at 2:33 PM Pacific time, no? You found my dollie, I hope. Isn't she lovely? Does she remind you of anyone you know? Such as, I don't know, that sweet sister of yours, Sadie. Oh, Sadie. What fun we'll have. Carter, please understand she's given me no choice. I've gone down this road before, it isn't pretty. You saw the painting, so you see I have to kill her. It's a much more merciful fate than one ridden with the guilt of what will happen if she doesn't die. Oh, and I also have to destroy her soul, so it doesn't get reincarnated again. Sorry, can't have her going to the Hall of Judgement. It's nothing personal. Well except, it sort of is, but we'll discuss that a later date. Regrettably Your Truest Friend, Anastasiya Volkom Stone P.S. By the time you've read this I've already abducted another friend of yours, a godly one. So you rush home to protect your sister now and come up with some futile attempt to vanguish me, but trust me it won't work. All the magic in the world won't help you, but if you must could you at least please make it worth my time, Kane."

Carter's eyes went wide. "Lillian!" he cried in vain. There was no point; she was long gone. A god was kidnapped and Asya was planning to kill his sister. Lillian had told him he wouldn't like the price of friendship, how right she had been. He had to get back to Sadie.

"Carter, wait," Zia calmly pleaded. The note angered her as well but she was better at keeping emotions in check.

"Wait, she wants to kill my sister!" Carter protested.

Zia frowned, "I know, but let me grab the paintings first. They seemed to be our best clue to what's going on."

Carter nodded. After collecting the paintings the two made their way back down the driveway to where Lillian's car sat still parked. The keys were in the ignition just waiting for them. Carter had to give Asya a hand. Since there were no Egyptian artifacts or things of that sort he and Zia would have to head to Seattle to open a portal and Seattle was a good forty-minute drive from the manor. Sure it gave them plenty time to talk but he didn't want to talk he wanted to be in Brooklyn making sure his sister was alright, and to make it even worse the batteries in their cellphones both seemed to have died all of a sudden. Carter was a good deal over the speed limit and the rain wasn't showing signs of winding down. He was thinking how could the day get any worse when a sudden flash of lightning felled a tree so it landed right in front of the bug. It happened too quickly, and, though, he stepped on the brakes as quick as he was able they still went crashing into the broken limbs of the tree.

Blinking his eyes open Carter didn't see the branches of a tree nor a sterile hospital room. Instead he saw a women. If he turned his head her silhouette flickered. He could see through her skin. Slender and willowy, she had an inhuman grace, but she was not a god. A rogue? Her emerald eyes were watching him with the sincerest concern. A solemn frown pitied him as she gently whispered something he couldn't understand. It was a language older than Ancient Egyptian; though, he felt it. The words were pure magic, more divine than the divine words that every magician sought one day to be able to speak, seeped through his essence, enveloping him in a blanket of warm soothing calmness that numbed his woes and healed his scars. As the magic lulled him into a deep peaceful sleep he heard the woman whisper one last thing, and she spoke in English so he was able to understand. Upon waking he found himself on one of the beds in Brooklyn House's infirmary. He didn't remember opening a portal unless... Carter quickly glanced over his arms and legs. Nothing, like the branches splintering, the cracking of the windshield, and the crushing cushioning from the air bags had all been a bad dream.

"Carter," Zia softly murmured, "did you see her?" His eyes jumped to the source of her voice. She was on the bed beside, like him without injury.

Carter's lip trembled as he weakly replied, "Yes."

"And did she say...?"

"Do not repeat your ancestor's crime. Spare her child," Carter recited.

Zia leaned her head back against the pillow asking, "Who was that woman?"

Despondently he shook his head. "I've no idea." He had one, though, the lady that Lillian had spoke of. Was the woman they had seen, the lady Lillian had spoke of?


End file.
